Time Will Tell
by DC Luder
Summary: First in the Series of Three storyline. After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends. 2010 DFA Winner for Best Multipart, Best Depiction of the Dynamic Duo and the Dannell Lites Memorial Award.
1. Time Will Tell: Prologue

Title: Time Will Tell: Prologue

Author: DC Luder

Summary: First story in the Series of Three. After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T for violence, language and adult themes

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter had been altered from its original version (2-3-10)

^V^

"A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

^V^

Summer had yet to start but the weather was already miserably humid and warm.

I sat perched atop Wayne Tower, surveying the city with binoculars. The night had been relatively quiet with nothing more than a few dozen felonies aborted and avoided.

Perhaps tonight would be an early night.

And perhaps I would actually make it to Selina's for our late dinner.

Perhaps.

Our relationship had taken a sudden turn in the road nearly seven months earlier. After years of taunting and chasing one another, it had finally erupted into something more than a game of chase. Selina had been there from the beginning and would most likely be there at my end. I had been looking at our time together recently and questioning if I had wanted more.

I scowled at myself. No, I had been wondering if I deserved more.

My life had never been one of joy and happiness. Even as a child I had been more serious then my peers. And after the death of my parents, reality had become far too overwhelming. I had sacrificed everything to become the Batman. Friends, family, trust, love…

"Breaker one-nine, radio check. This is Rodger Dodger looking for Smiles Are Frowns Upside Down, over."

"Nightwing," I replied hoarsely. Even at his age he still enjoyed playing with the comm. link…

He had made the trip to Gotham at whim, visiting with Alfred, Tim and myself before joining in on patrols. A surprise, but certainly not an unwelcome one.

"Well, I'm heading home, I still have to wrap things up in the Haven before I can wrap myself up in a down comforter."

"It's quiet here. Need any help?" I asked, the only sign of appreciation I would offer him.

"Nah, she's been behaving herself lately… for once. Behave yourself. Over and out."

I suppressed a small smile of pride as I cut the transmission. Dick had been the closest thing I had ever had to a son, perhaps more so than Jason and most recently Tim. As much as I had been a clueless father figure when he was younger, every time I thought of him as a grown, functional, somewhat sane part of society…

Well, it made me feel a bit better.

After checking the time to be a little after two, I decided to return to the Mobile to continue patrols with the company of climate control. Between the four of us, every borough had been visited, a feat that had been impossible when I had first started myw ar on crime.

Perhaps Gotham could be without her savior for an hour or two…

As I moved to enter the Mobile, I thought of the small velvet box that sat in the bottom of a trunk in the rear of my walk-in closet. It was in a yellow gift bag hidden amongst the extra clothing within. The box contained something that I had spent nearly one hundred and fifty thousand dollars on three weeks earlier.

After weeks of tormenting thoughts, I had decided to buy the ring, just in case the opportune moment presented itself. Of course, no rational thought had been used in the plan, just pure desire and hope. A leap of faith. My internal drive had urged me into the jewelry store, to select the diamond ring set in the gold band and hand over my credit card with a smile. The cashier had smiled as well, saying something about one special lady.

That she was.

And there it sat, in my closet, buried beneath socks. Although paranoid, I had hopes that Alfred wouldn't come across it before Saturday, despite the fact that he already had suspicions. Suspicions that were only fueled when I had told him that we would be dining at the manor instead of in town. Since we had resumed courting one another, Alfred had been beyond supportive, no doubt just as grateful that she had returned to my life.

He had once told me that she was Godsend as she was the first woman to make me appreciate life. Not only others, but my own as well.

Although I sacrificed my life for Batman, I had begun to wonder what I would to have Selina at my side. Normal thoughts of having her as my wife and someday the mother of my child seemed alien to me. What would it be like to wake every single morning to see her face, peaceful with sleep?

Although it was anyone's rightful with to be happy, I still found myself wondering if I too bore that right. What would I surrender for that right, for her?

We had casually discussed the future less than a handful of times. Although no simple question, let alone a simple one to answer, she had inquired as to how long I saw myself protecting Gotham.

The only reply I was able to give her was that I would stop when I was no longer able to do what was necessary. When she asked what that was, I had simply told her that I had no idea.

She had nodded, kissed me and then said, "Fair enough."

End of discussion.

But her question had brought up a valid point, one I had never truly considered in my tie in the cowl. What would make me quit? Paralysis hadn't stopped me. The death of my colleagues and even protégés hadn't either. Of all the obstacles I had ever faced, nothing had ever forced me to consciously consider ending it all for good.

Taking the driver's seat, I hit the ignition, sitting motionless as I stared at the empty street before me.

Selina had asked me a simple question as we shared a bottle of wine on her couch at three in the morning, and somehow I was debating my future. She had taken me back into her life when she had no reason to ever talk to me again. I had bought a ring for her despite never having any intention of proposing to her…

Shifting into gear, the Mobile began to creep forward as my mind tried to regain focus.

Oracle's face appeared on the center console's LCD, "You don't have anything on your plate, do you?"

Thankful for the distraction, I curtly replied, "No."

"GCPD is moving into the French Quarter. Looks like a tip came through and Pasqualle's out to buy it tonight. SWAT and State police are moving into place as we speak. Dad's at his office still, but he'll be on his way down soon."

"I'll drop by there first."

"All right. Want Robin? He's over on Exeter with Batgirl."

"No, have them head out to the Quarter. Backup only."

"Got it, boss," she nodded before the image went black,

With a sigh, I turned off into an alley and headed back towards Tri-corner. After I turned onto 67th Avenue, I gunned the engine to make haste to police headquarters.

So much for dinner, Selina. Perhaps, later, after Pasqualle was in lock up along with his drug-running goons.

Perhaps then we could sit together and talk about what we would do with our lives. About how she would redecorate my bedroom and then how Alfred would have to stop picking out my clothes. How we could set up a nursery in the next room, maybe…

And how we'll live happily ever after.

Perhaps.

Parking in a dark alleyway, I activated the security system before shooting a grappling hook up to the top of the ancient building. I landed soundlessly a familiar window ledge, silently opening it before entering the dark room. As expected, Gordon sat hunched over his desk, taking a moment of to himself before descending into hell.

With no time to waste, I cleared my throat, announcing my presence.

Gordon jumped, as usual, and cursed me under his breath. It was as he piled documents together on his desk that I noticed the smoldering ashtray near his left hand. He followed my gaze, "Oh, don't you even think of lecturing me. I am stressed to the gills, nicotine's my only prayer." He smiled as he stood and leaned against his desk, "Nicotine and you that is."

Deciding to move on to business, I asked hoarsely, "How many men?"

He sighed and removed his glasses, "Thirteen, give or take. Surveillance counted four cars that pulled into the rear-parking garage, but the tinted windows didn't give them a chance to count heads. But we have the troops armed and ready."

"Shoot to kill?"

"With him, we have no other choice."

Henri Pasqualle had been plaguing the eastern seaboard with imported European drugs for more than a decade under a number of aliases. He had recently made his way into the Gotham underbelly and we had been doing our best to welcome him with open arms and shackles.

Gordon growled, "God knows how many eighteen-year-olds are going to get it tonight. Too many. Always too many." He stood abruptly and walked over to the coat rack near the door. Upon donning his holster and trench coat, he continued, "I'll see you there."

As I paused at the window, I spoke quietly, "Careful, Jim."

And before I could leave, he said, "You, too, friend."

Our affiliation had being a long and rocky one. So much had come between us, from the law, broken promises as well as his family and mine. Although we had spent the last few years in an amiable alliance, I would always be haunted by the anger I had seen in his eyes from the night Two-Face had nearly beaten Dick to death. The fear in his eyes as he had accused me of endangering his life and how he would come after me if the boy had died.

I had told him to trust me.

And he had.

The fifteen-minute ride to the other side of town took eight in the Mobile, courtesy running seven red lights. Once I had found a concealed parking spot, I quickly spotted Batgirl and Robin perched on the roof the building facing the barricaded restaurant. With their binoculars out, they were fast to spot me as well. I nodded at them and they signaled that everything was set.

I looked up at the neon sign, with pink roman script, "La Belle Fleur" glowing in the dark. The building itself was a three-story brick and glass creation that had once been a hot spot for Gotham's elite. With my night lenses, I could only spot a few lookouts, armed with Uzis.

One false move.

That's all it took.

Pasqualle's gun-bearing men had apparently grown tired of watching the police assemble outside and had taken the offense, opening fire at will. My only other encounter with Pasqualle's army had been a week earlier, composed mainly of ex-cons and tween boys with wild eyes and thin faces.

They tried desperately to empty their rounds into the officers, although I only heard reports of three wounded over the scanners. After a fifteen minutes of flying bullet, I decided not to bear witness to any more senseless bloodshed. Without making contact with Gordon, I moved in close to the rear of the building, strategically throwing in my own brand of tear gas capsules. Thick hazy smoke seeped from the windows and soon, grown men poured out of the exits screaming in pain, bent at the waist with crippling nausea.

Crime did not pay.

"We'll cover you," Robin's voice found my ear. I turned to see him standing tall, a determined look on his face. Batgirl stood next to him, her head high and fists clenched.

Tim and Cassandra. Dick and Barbara…

"No. Stay here. Help maintain the one's that have come out. They still need to be dealt with."

He nodded before they made their way around to the front, seemingly racing one another to get to a thug first..

As I finally breached the rear entrance, I donned my gas mask, event though I had developed an near perfect immunity to it and would not suffer its full effects. The ground floor of the restaurant was filled with scattered tables, chairs and pieces of broken window. Gordon had said there had been at least fifteen men that had arrived and fourteen had been spotted exiting the building.

Gordon had been two off.

I spotted Pasqualle ten yards away, holding a cloth to his face. Two other men were with him with the large bulk and defining presence of bodyguards. After watching them move around in the darkness for a moment, I leapt at the trio and brought my elbows down into the juncture of their necks and shoulders of the bigger men. Both fell instantly and found they could not move their arms.

Nerve blocks.

IT took several, fast-paced blows to their head and necks but I was able to render them both unconscious. In that fraction of a minute, Pasqualle escaped my sight as he blindly maneuvered into the kitchen.

After throwing the two men out the front window, I went after him, seeing him clearly through Starlite lenses. He had Smith and Wesson in one hand and six-inch switchblade in the other. In the dark, they were useless tools, for sight was required to use them. But in my case, darkness was the most useful tool, a tool, acting as a means of offense and defense. I watched him as he walked about the dark room, softly calling out the names of his missing comrades as he kept bumping into counters and cold stovetops.

His breath grew heavier as he realized he was alone, the small goatee on his chin quivered as his lips began to tremble in fear.

Given that I had the time, I considered several options to bring him down, all of which would likely involve him being in at least two different casts for the next few months. I settled for disarming him with a swift kick to the elbow, followed by a series of jabs, crosses and elbow hits to the face, neck and chest and a final twist to his wrist. The end result was the gun falling to the floor and the knife flinging across the room as he

Screamed in pain.

After a hard blow to the base of the skull, he crumpled to the floor. I growled, dragged him by the foot to the front of the restaurant and threw him out the window where he landed on his bodyguards. At least they protected him from getting road rash. Taking a moment, I watched from the window as officers tackled them, began reading Miranda rights and securing them.

Robin and Batgirl had done their fair share of work, with the remaining thugs moaning and limping into holding vans. They had taken to standing beside Gordon and Bullock, not thirty feet away. After offering a curt nod, I returned my focus to Pasqualle, horrified to see that he had not only regained consciousness but that he had staggered to his feet, nose dripping blood over an eerie smile.

He had managed to stab one of the officers in the face with a shard of broken glass, giving him just enough time to rip the gun from the tactical unit member's hands. Time slowed as he extended his arms and aimed for the Commissioner. Although there were already officers tackling Pasqualle, I knew he would be able to get enough shots off to get the job done.

I leapt from the window and landed mere feet in front of the wide-eyed Pasqualle.

Three shots fired in rapid succession and I felt each one slam into my body armor. Time continued to crawl as I fell to the ground, my eyes catching on a green glove as it reached out for me. Odd, the sirens had faded, the shouts, the gunfire… nothing.

Faces appeared around me suddenly. Robin, Bullock, Jim…

Gordon's hand wrapped around mine and somehow I managed to nod. It was starting to throb, but at least the Kevlar held. I'm sure it would have been bad had the bullets gone through.

I would be bruised and sore, no doubt. Selina would come up to the Manor later, worried but hiding it with a smile and a tease. We would still have a good talk about our future, maybe in the morning, though, I thought as a bitter taste rose in the back of my throat.

Faces began to blur to darkness. Didn't feel like blacking out, felt like I was floating.

Sleep, that was what I needed. I would rest up for a day, then I would be ready for Saturday, even if it was just dinner, no major breakthroughs in either of our lives.

As I closed my eyes, I pictured Selina teasing me. I imagined she was with me now, her voice was light with affection, "Way to go, Bull's eye."

"Funny, Flea Bag," I would tell her.

She would take me home, so I could sleep and get better for dinner.

And then maybe I would settle down a bit.

Perhaps.

I hoped she wouldn't get mad at me. Wanted her to be happy.

Maybe I would give her the ring.

Hoped Alfred wouldn't see it.

Wanted to be a surprise.

So tired.

So quiet.

My eyes closed once more to see Selina's smiling face, her voice fading.

And then nothing.

^V^


	2. Time Will Tell: I

Title: Time Will Tell: I

Author: DC Luder

Summary: First story in the Series of Three. After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T for violence, language and adult themes

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: Revised chapter posted 2/5/10

^V^

Daylight was less than two hours away as I stumbled through the bedroom window of my apartment.

With my eyes half closed, my hands obediently removed my mask and tugged at my gloves, letting them fall victim to gravity as they fell to the carpet. My sore, fatigued legs slowly led me in the general direction of the bed, pausing to kick off boots. Yawning, I removed the black and blue tunic that stank of sweat and gunpowder. After fumbling at the body armor's hooks and snaps, I let the vest and shoulder pads drop before then undoing the utility belt that was in desperate need of a refill.

At the sight of the comforter and feather pillows, I collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering with my leggings

Although it had been my day off, I had barely found more than ten consecutive minutes to just sit and relax. I had been relatively awake by ten in the morning, ended up going for a run before the May mugginess surfaced followed by desperate attempt at cleaning my apartment before heading to Gotham. From there it had been a long day of catching up with Alfred, sparring with my favorite little bro and then an awkward Family dinner.

That and a night of Gotham patrols followed by an early morning touring Bludhaven.

.

Although it would have been nice to take Bruce up on his offer to help, I had declined. It was one thing for me to return to my roots but it was an entirely different matter for him to spread his reach to the Haven. Just as it was his city, this was mine.

Sleep came almost instantly, with soft snores escaping my lips. I had a shift from eight until six and was already dreading the amount of coffee it was going to take to survive it. Even after mastering power naps and mini-comas, I still found myself craving for the full night's sleep that everyone else endured…

Then the phone rang.

"Can't a guy get a break around here," I growled as my hand fumbled for the offensive device. On the fifth ring I muttered a weak, "Hello?"

"Dick?!" a young man's voice asked. Had I been conscious, I would have recognized the fear in his voice.

"Tim. It's five in the morning…"

"Sorry… I need your help."

"Nightwing and his counterpart are unavailable right now. Please call back at a later time. Thank you---."

"He's hurt, Dick."

"Who's hurt?" I asked, slowly sitting up.

"Bruce. Alfred's in with Leslie now… They're still operating," Tim's voice softened with emotion.

My heart started to pump faster with concern, "Slow down, now. What happened?"

Tim took a deep breath, "We were helping the police. Drug raid in the French Quarter. He---Gordon was in the line of fire. Pasqualle… took a semi-automatic from a SWAT member… Armor piercing--- He just--- He dove in front of the shooter. Thought he was dead," sniffles began to interrupt Tim's words, "Dick, he was hit three times. Barely alive when we brought him here…"

It took a moment for his words settle. I then thought to myself that Bruce had been shot dozens of times, not a new occurrence. He'd dance with death more times then I cared to remember. But for Tim...

"What's his condition?"

Tim remained silent.

"Tim, where was he shot?"

"It was bad, point blank," he paused, "Once in the abdomen, in the chest and--- And in the head."

"The bullet grazed his head?"

"No, it… went inside."

My heart leapt into my throat, "Tim. I'll be there in thirty minutes, okay? Sit tight."

"…We're at Leslie's."

"Okay, I'm on my way."

I threw on clothes quickly as my concern was consumed with straight out fear. The pieces of my Nightwing suit that were strewn about the floor were still warm to the touch as I donned them once more. As I raced out the window, my pulse was throbbing in my temples.

This was a fear we had never faced before; a bullet to the head meant serious business. I had known people to survive such injuries, but recovery had been far from complete. Would he ever wake up? Would he ever be normal again? Would he d---?

Opting for the motorcycle, I maneuvered the empty streets of Bludhaven onto the highway. I put her in top gear going over a hundred and twenty-five miles per an hour with nothing on my mind but the future of the man I considered to be my father. Once I had entered the city limits of Gotham, I slowed to a manageable seventy-three and took the third exit off of the main drag. Ten minutes later, I pulled up to the rear entrance of Leslie's clinic where I had visited more times than I have cared for. Either unconscious in the arms of Batman, or even worse, trying to carry his bleeding form to Leslie's aide.

After locking up, I raced through the door and towards the surgery bay of the clinic. Given the early hour, the halls were deathly silent. Too silent. In the waiting area, Robin sat motionless next to Batgirl, her head low with defeat. Across from them, sat Jim Gordon and his daughter, Barbara, both red-eyed and agitated.

They looked up at me and if possible, their faces grew more solemn. Gordon looked puzzled momentarily then the recognition sank in, and he nodded before getting to his feet.

Just then, a rough voice announced, "No more coffee, Commish, but there was some Coke in the fridge..."

I turned to see the disgruntled form of Detective Harvey Bullock, carrying a six-pack of cola. His hair was in disarray and his trousers and striped shirt were blood stained. I searched for any sign of injury and upon finding none; I concluded it had been someone else's blood.

Behind him was the slim figure of Renee Montoya, her face painfully sad. She had been a one of the few closely trusted police officers of the Batman. Completely opposite of her partner, they worked together flawlessly in the fight for justice.

"Who the hell are you? Smokey or the Bandit?" Bullock snapped and grabbed my coat collar as he pulled my face to a mere inch from his. His breath was foul with cigar smoke and his eyes were dark with anger.

"Easy, Bullock," Gordon said as he stood, "He's friend, not foe."

He glanced at the Commissioner before locking his eyes back on to mine, "You that freak from the 'Haven?"

Silently, I nodded in return. I had never been one of fond feelings for Bullock, and certainly wasn't at the moment. His disorder and temper however made him the cop that he was. Bullock stared at me for few seconds more and then released my jacket. He grunted something that might have been an apology before sitting down next the commissioner. Montoya remained standing next to the wall as silence filled the waiting room.

I was about to ask what the progress had been when I spotted motion out of the corner of my eye. The others looked with me towards the surgical bay at the sight through the glass doors. Leslie and Alfred were dressed in surgical gowns and masks. Both had a large amount of blood splattered all over them. Leslie removed her mask and spoke with Alfred briefly, and he nodded, turned and directed several nurses that had helped the surgery. As Leslie opened the doors in order to approach us, we caught a glimpse of a stretcher being pushed down the hall.

The being that rested on it was wrapped in gauze and had tubes running over him from every direction.

Leslie removed her soiled apparel and put them in a hamper as she proceeded towards the group, radiographs in her left hand. Her face was solemn, but then again whenever we were injured, no matter how slight, she was reminded of the cost of Bruce's war.

I feared what price Bruce was about to pay.

^V^

The group stood in unison as Leslie stopped in front of us, "Don't stand up for me, it's been a long night and it's not over yet."

I sat back down next to Batgirl, even though I wanted nothing more than to race through the doors and down the hall into recovery. I had to see him, I had to feel his pulse…

After Pasqualle had been taken down, for the second and final time, I had wasted no time in running to Batman's side. At first, I had thought that he had been able to take the hits to the chest, and that even with armor-piercing rounds he wouldn't have been in to bad of shape. Far better than the commissioner would have faired.

It was I reached out for him that I had realized I had been far too optimistic.

We had applied compresses, from our first aid kits in the belts, then moving on to staunching blood with material ripped from Harvey Bullock's own trench coat. For the first few minutes, he had seemed alert, looking to each of our faces, even nodding at Jim when he had grasped his gloved hand. However, he had been unable to respond to anything I had said, and showed no response to painful stimuli.

I was a teenaged kid, with limited first aid training and even I knew how bad it was…

Leslie put the films onto a light box and then illuminated it, letting us look them over before explaining them. I found myself getting back up to my feet in order to get a coser look, being sure to stay out of the others' view. A skull was ont eh first one, the bullet wound I had been the most concerned by, the brain mass was translucent with the occasional folds outlined. Located in the front of the skull, a bullet's silhouette was clearly defined in contrast with the light shades of the cranial tissue.

The next film was of the chest, ribs overlaying the outlines of organs. The bullet had shattered two of the ribs and had lodged itself near the spine rather than launch out his back. The body armor had failed to prevent it from entering but had eaten its momentum to keep it from exiting.

The third film was of the abdomen, evident from the faded outlines of the intestines and digestive organs. A portion of the liver was intensely white and the bullet could be barely seen in the center of color.

"My lord," Montoya muttered from the rear.

"My words exactly. We were able to remove the bullet from the liver and stopped the blood flow. He threw a clot half way through the procedure, blocked the hepatic artery and the flow of oxygen to this lobe of the liver. Unfortunately we had to remove it. For the second bullet, he was lucky it didn't penetrate the spine. It was an inch from the cord itself. Easily removed however. Mimal damage the chest cavity, considering the splinters of the rib cage…"

"What about the third one," I asked.

"There is pressure building up in the cranial sac. I feared an aneurysm, but we relieved the pressure by drawing excess blood out and it hasn't returned… yet. At this point, if the bullet were removed, it would cause more harm than good. In fact, it probably would kill him. Maybe later when he's stable, but even then, the invasive nature of the procedure would most likely do more harm than good."

Gordon asked weakly, "Is he stable?"

"Almost, Commissioner. His vitals are still low, which from the blood loss is expected. we've been pumping in blood and plasma through a central line for the last three hours and I've started him on some steroids to help maintain the pressure on his brain... Right now, his EEG readings are hopeful, but he is comatose."

Trying to fight back memories of my father, crippled and on his deathbed after being held captive in Haiti, I inquired, "Is he on a respirator?"

Leslie nodded, "As a precaution. He had fairly good breath sounds and autonomic responses coming in but if he takes a turn for the worst, I'd prefer to be safe rather than sorry."

Turn for the worse…

"Can we see him?" I continued.

"Not yet. I'd like to wait and get his blood pressure and his pulse up a bit. If you want, you can look through the window of the recovery room, but that's all until he is less critical."

The Gordon rose to his feet and joined Nigthwing as they followed Leslie back down the hall. Bullock and Montoya stayed behind and I didn't realize I had as well until I felt atgirl's hand on my forearm.

Five minutes earlier, I wanted to barge into recovery, to make sure he was alive.

I could barely move my feet.

After nodding at her, I followed Batgirl down the hall towards the recovery area. As we passed the surgery room, several glanced in, myself included, and saw a horrific site. The floor was bathed in bright red blood. Wadded and saturated gauze pads were everywhere, as well as bloodied instruments. In a metal bowl that rested on the counter next to the door sat a clump of bloody liver tissue that peeked through the blue strile draping.

I felt my stomach churn.

He was alive.

They had raised the dead.

Gordon's face quivered when he passed the surgery room and I noticed that Barbara had reached over and squeezed his hand.

At the end of the hall there was a large room with numerous beds available for post-operation patients. The lights were dimmed and the glows of heart monitors could easily be seen. From my rear location of the group, I couldn't see very well and was thankful for it.

Nightwing was the first to look though the massive window and I was surprised to see his lower lip trembling. If anything, Dick always remained optimistic, light-hearted, holding back his emotion nearly as well as Bruce. Leaving Batgirl, I stepped forward slowly and stood at his side, absorbing the sight before us.

The hero, the man they all looked up to, was bandaged like a mummy. His entire skull was wrapped in white gauze except his nose, mouth and right eye. The site of the wound was already bleeding through the material. His chest was bare and was also wrapped from his collarbone to his hips. His limp arms were attached to several IV lines and pulse recording devices.

We had all forced ourselves for a majority of our lives to become emotionally detached to intense situations. Those in disguise, even more so. However, among those that stood before the picture window, not a single soul wasn't affected. Not a single eye was dry.

^V^

Three days passed.

Seventy-two hours and not so much of a finger twitch.

The only sign of improvement was that the subdural swelling had responded to the steroids and Leslie had felt comfortable taking him off of the ventilator. With Bruce breathing on his own, we all had found a small surge of hope amidst the ever-growing fear of the inevitable. His temperature had been alarmingly high after the first twenty-four hours, but after high-powered IV antibiotics, his system had calmed and his vitals had returned to normal. An infection was the last thing he needed to fight off.

Bruce never gave up, I kept reminding myself, no matter how high the odds were stacked against him, he never surrendered.

Between sitting at Bruce's bedside and working at the Clocktower, the first three days after Pasqualle had flown by. Thankfully, the shootout had occurred late at night and had not been attended by some of the more notorious thrill seeking investigative reporters. Nevertheless, words had traveled throughout Gotham's underbelly that the Bat was down, possibly even dead. Needless to say, the criminals had waited a day, testing the waters before hitting the streets with a fury. A welcome distraction, Dick, Tim and Cass had been fighting back as best they could, fighting for Gotham, fighting for Bruce…

After signing off early from the Clocktower, a little after two-thirty in the morning, I made the twenty-minute drive to free clinic. Even though my bed had been calling my name, I wouldn't have been able to get any meaningful sleep. In fact, the only sleep I had managed in three days had been slumped in the padded chair next to Bruce's gurney.

Before heading through the back entrance, I took a moment to myself, hands still on the steering wheel of the idle SUV. Each visit had become harder than the last in spite of the marginal improvements. The day before, I had dropped by to bring lunch, for the staff and for Dick who had been at Bruce's bedside all day.

Entering the back "storage room" where each us had been treated over the years, I found him just sitting there, staring at Bruce's bandaged face.

He hadn't acknowledged me until I had taken his free hand into mine.

Since the shooting, he had either been hitting the streets of Gotham, at the free clinic or at the Clocktower for much needed meals and showers. Given that he rarely used his time off form the force, he had been able to take seven consecutive personal days, leaving seven days left for the year.

Hopefully, he wouldn't need to break into his sick days or vacation time.

My father had been by every night, without fail. According to Leslie, he always called a head and never stayed more than five or ten minutes, all of which was spent just staring down at his fallen friend.

The day after it had happened, he had called me first, wondering if I would go with him.

I had seen my father recover from being tortured, watch his city befall tragedy and tragedy… and I had seen him bury the love of his life.

And yet the look on his face as he watched Bruce breath in and out…

"Okay," I lied to myself before opening the car door.

After a curt nod on the secluded room's door, I heard a muted response before opening and pushing it in. Shutting it, I looked to the rear of the room to see Leslie bent over, swathing a small flashlight over Bruce's exposed eyes. She had removed the encasing head bandage, with only white gauze covering him from the forehead up.

Without being prompted, she replied, "Pupils are increasingly reactive… Left is still a fraction sluggish."

Moving to the other side of the gurney, I looked up to Bruce's still face, "Good to see that mug of yours, Bruce."

"Hairy mug," Leslie smirked as she pocketed the penlight, "Well, now that the bandages are off, no doubt Alfred will be here in the next minute or so with a straight razor."

I smiled as well before taking a cold, rough hand into mine, "Where is Alfred?"

"I gently persuaded him to get to some sleep… Although, he refused to go to the Manor, so we compromised on my house."

Knowing Leslie had also been up around the clock over the last three days, I offered, "I'll stay with him… if you'd like to rest yourself."

She blinked slowly, before replying, setting a hand on Bruce's forearm, "I actually managed a bit of a nap this afternoon… it was pretty quiet today…"

I watched on as she checked the IV antibiotic and fluid bags hanging from the stand to her right. Taking advantage of her distraction, I scanned my eyes over the medical readout displays on the EKG and EEG. His vitals were well within range, his low pulse being the exception but being that physically fit it was understandable. Although where his heart was beating away, his brain activity showed only small waves and dips.

"There was a spike earlier in the temporal, frontal and parietal electrodes."

My eyes lit up, "Really, when was this?"

"Around ten or so… Dick had dropped by for a quick visit. Called me back in when the EEG started fluctuating."

He hadn't told me during the night, probably as a way of not giving me false hope.

I'd have to smack him for it later.

"That's a good sign… He's making his way back to us.," Leslie had offered before excusing herself. No doubt she had a number of other patients waiting for her.

Alone, I found my eyes returning to Bruce's face and my thoughts drifting to dark places.

With all of his strength, all that he had overcome in his life, would he be able to defeat a coma? Even when Bane nearly killed him, he woke after a few hours...

It was the ultimate battle, because the strong will and tenacity had once thrived on were useless against the enemy he was currently fighting.

All because of a fraction of a second.

A wrong turn down an alley…

The night he had been shot had started like any other, routine patrols followed by a visit to the GCPD. My father had asked for masked backup in the capture of Henri Pasqualle and his fellow drug dealing understudies at one of the cover businesses,

La Belle Fleur.

The beautiful flower.

The police had barricaded the two-story brick building as SWAT members prepared to barge in. The men inside were taken by surprise, disabled and rendered useless with the help of extra-strength gas pellets. The plan was a standard, one that had always ended with the bad guys coughing and puking their guts out, the worst of said bad guys even sporting bruises and bumps. Weeks of investigation ending in a firefight with minimal loss and injury, paddy wagons filled to capacity, all thanks to the caped crusaders.

That time had been different.

Robin and Batgirl had stayed outside, taking out thugs as they fled the smoke filled building. They had worked far more efficiently than the SWAT members who were too busy pointing their guns and shouting orders. Two of the three men remaining in the building had flown out of the central ground floor window, followed quickly by the goateed ringleader.

Seemingly, a job well done, a front page story for the Gazette and another success for the caped crusaders.

That as until Pasqualle staggered to his feet, ripped a semi-automatic from a SWAT officer.

In a matter of seconds, Pasqualle had pulled the trigger, my father's life had flashed before his eyes and a dark figure leapt in the path of three armor-piercing bullets.

Given that he was needed for the conviction, SWAT had simply beaten Pasqualle, pummeling him rather than shooting him. My father had closed his eyes before diving to the pavement, hoping to find shelter behind a squad car. Bullock had grabbed him by the arm, ripping him back to his feet before taking off towards Pasqualle, leaving my father confused.

But not for long.

While we had waited for Bruce to get out of surgery that first night, he had confided in me, telling me the events through his eyes. The fear that had raced through him at the sight of a very large, very still body lying in a a very large pool of blood.

And there his savior lies, and may never rise again.

I have pondered since that night the odds of him waking up. Leslie had given him at least forty-sixty, although her numbers were still optimistic. Ever being able to function on a somewhat normal level: thirty-seventy. And ever being able to be up to standard again: twenty-eighty.

And the chances of him ever being able to take on his nocturnal counterpart ever again: ten-ninety.

Not very good odds, even for Batman.

Even upon waking, the aftermath suffered could range from simply have a scar on his brow to being riddled with brain damage. I had read several texts that Leslie had on brain injuries and the possibilities had my guts in knots. Since the bullet was in the left frontal lobe of the brain, his right side motor skills would be the most likely to suffer. Fine motor skills, walking and balance would be off, if possible at all. Vision and hearing were also likely to suffer, as well as speech and critical thinking and reasoning skills.

All of the things he thrived on…

And lastly, memory. Leslie consulted with a neurologist in Boston and had sent him the radiographs, MRI scans and pertinent medical data. Apparently, he specialized in unique brain injuries, including gun shot wounds. He concluded that another possibility would be complete amnesia. Not just memories of friends and family, but of language, math and social behaviors. If this was the case, it would require complete rehabilitation, from infancy up.

Thankfully, the door opened, revealing Alfred and Leslie. They were swiftly followed by Dick who had changed out of his Nightwing suit and into a pair of dirty jeans and a wrinkled tee-shirt, both fitting his exhausted face and chaotic hair.

After he offered me a tired smile, he walked up behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders before leaning over to look down at Bruce.

Leslie had a lightness to her face that hadn't been there when she had left a few minutes earlier and Alfred looked positively cheerful.

Feeling out of the loop, I had looked up at Dick's stubbled chin, "Well?"

Dick smirked down at me before glancing to Leslie, "It's all yours, Doc."

Leslie had returned to her post at Bruce's bedside before she announced, "He's been stable for twenty-four hours… I think… he's ready to go home. He already has all of the equipment he needs. Besides, this dank, dark room isn't the best when it comes to warm, healing environments…"

Dick added after letting go of my shoulders, "Yeah, he'll kill us if he wakes up here."

I squeezed Bruce's cold hand, "You wouldn't, would you, Bruce?"

Passing, I heard Leslie ask Dick to bring around one of the medical transport vehicles that Leslie used on the rare occasion she needed to transfer a patient to another hospital. He was quick to head back into the hall. Still keeping Bruce's hand in mine, I watched as Leslie unplugged the EKG and EEG electrodes from the machines rather than removing them from under the bandages. She then proceeded to remove the oxygen cannula from under his nose before setting an mask over his face, the clear tube leading to a portable tank.

Once ready for transport, I exited the small room to make way for the stretcher. I watched on as Leslie, Alfred and Dick moved him from the gurney and then strapped him in for the ride.

Home, sweet home.

With Leslie and Alfred riding up in the town car, I opted to ride beside Dick in the unmarked ambulance. We were silent until hitting a red light before the St. James North exit. When the light turned green and Dick hadn't accelerated, I finally looked over to see his death grip on the steering wheel.

I reached out and gently touched his tense forearm, "He's going to be okay. He always pulls through."

Pressing gently on the gas, he nodded, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

^V^

For the duration of the ride, Leslie had not uttered a single word.

Where my eyes had been staring intently on the ambulance before us, hers had been directed to her hands as they rested in her lap.

We arrived at the manor moments after Master Dick and Ms. Barbara, and I carefully followed Master Dick as he pulled around behind the garage to the rear service entrance. Aside from rare guests and events hosted at the Manor, the front door remained locked and unused. It was where Master Dick tried sneaking into the manor on his intermittent visits, hoping to gain access tot eh kitchen before being discovered. Following a rigorous day of academics, it was where Master Tim entered the Manor before quickly making his way down into the Cave, more often than not with Miss Cassandra following after him.

And lastly, each weekday evening between five and six, depending on traffic, Master Bruce quietly opened the service door, sighed before hanging his jacket and---.

"Alfred?"

I felt Leslie's hand on my arm, shaking me from painful reverie. I had automatically pulled into the garage and had cut the ignition. Judging by the pained look on her face, we had been parked for some time.

"Are you all right, old man?" she asked, forcing a smile.

Nodding curtly, I returned the fake smile and lied, "But of course, my dear."

"But of course," she leaned over and gently kissed my cheek before stepping out of the car.

I followed suit, straightening my wool coat before locking the car, pocketing the keys and stepping out of the garage and into the cool, dark pre-dawn air. With sunrise still an hour and a half away, the birds had just begun to wake, ready for a warm, May day.

Master Bruce would have just been returning from patrols.

I reached the ambulance just as Master Dick had opened the back doors. Given that he had endured a number of challenges in his relationship with mentor, his devotion for Master Bruce had been unyielding in the last few days. Whether it was as his masked alter ego, trying to bring order to a city shaken to its core, or helping turn him so that Leslie was able to change bandages.

It had taken nearly losing him to bring them closer then they had been in years.

Leslie chose to stay behind while I excused myself to the third floor in order to prepare the master bedroom. I reasoned that demand of time lead me to take the elevator, not that I was exhausted. Regrettably, I had only been back to the Manor for fresh clothing and to receive a delivery of groceries. With Master Bruce in his rightful place, I would finally be able to return some of my attention on keeping the great house in order.

After stepping off onto the third floor, I retrieved fresh linens and proceeded to the master bedroom. Opening both of the double doors to accommodate for moving the stretcher into the room, I moved towards the bed, pausing as I noticed the comforter was rumpled and pillows were displaced.

Stepping forward, I set the fresh sheets and blankets on the bed before taking a seat, my lower lip trembling as I thought back to the Thursday evening prior to the shooting. Master Bruce had returned from the city mid-afternoon, and I had expected him to endure a hearty workout, a shower and an hour or two at the computer prior to heading back into Gotham.

Instead, he had met me in the kitchen, accepted a glass of ice water before saying, "I'm going upstairs, wake me by six."

I had forgotten to fix the bed afterwards.

Regaining my composure, I promptly stood and began removing the bedding and pillows, letting them fall to the floor rather than being partially folded and set neatly over the back of the chaise. As I began fitting the fresh sheets over the mattress, I heard the door creak softly from behind me. Rather than look back, I had offered, "Don't you make and excellent door stop, Master Dick."

He approached, quietly observing as I deftly tucked in the sheets and recovered the pillows. Master Dick offered a hand laying out the down covers but when I reached across to correct a rumple he left, he smirked, "Alfred, he's going to mess it up in five seconds..."

"Your point, sir?"

He smiled and tilted his head, "Never mind. Where's Tim? I'll have him help me move Bruce into the bed."

Thinking back to the late-night message on Leslie's answering machine from the young man, I answered, "Resting his eyes on the couch in the den I believe."

"I'll go grab him," he looked to the door, "Leslie and Barbara are coming up in the elevator… Want me to leave Bruce in the hall or---?"

I shook my head, "No, let's bring the stretcher in."

Following him into the corridor, I sighed at the sight of the loaded stretcher, waiting just outside of the elevator. I had intended on returning downstairs to aide Master Dick in unloading and maneuvering the gurney but apparently he had given way to his anxiousness. As he took the head, I gripped the cold steel bars by the foot and gently directed while Master Dick provided the momentum.

Once parallel with the king sized bed, Master Dick excused himself, adding that he would also head down to the Cave to retrieve the monitoring equipment.

He squeezed Master Bruce's arm before departing, "Be right back, Bruce."

"Master Bruce, I believe the first order of business is a good shave."

The portable EKG blipped and he exhaled quietly.

"Very well, sir…"

Being with him at Leslie's had been a horrid experience, notably because of the dreary, sterile atmosphere. Sitting at his bedside, for so many years should have made the experience moderately sustainable but every minute spent in the small treatment room had been nearly as unbearable as every second spent aiding in surgery.

IT was impossible not to think back over every major injury he had endured, namely when Bane had nearly killed him not three years earlier. The fear, the anxiety from watching him lay there, comatose, paralyzed… barely alive… For years I had been the one they had looked to for support and guidance and somehow I had managed to hold strong until Master Bruce opened his eyes..

When he had woken, he had believed himself to be a failure, broken physically and mentally.

I couldn't help but wonder what he would think after this latest hurdle.

When Master Dick and Master Tim arrived, I aided them in setting up the monitors, medical supply stand in addition to the ventilator and resuscitation cart. Just in case.

Hanging a temporary metal hook over the top of the headboard, I moved the IV bags, hoping to make moving Master Bruce less difficult. Stepping back, the young men moved forward, carefully undoing the sheet of the stretcher in order to cradle the limp body. On the count of three, they hefted together, lifting their mentor and setting him on the turned down bed. As Master Dick carefully pulled the spare sheet out from under Master Bruce, I noticed a twitch of a hand that hadn't moved in three days.

Sensory perception or simply autonomic reaction?

I heard muted voices approach form behind and I had turned to see Leslie and Ms. Barbara passing through the open doorway. Glancing back to the bed, I noticed Master Tim's eyes had begun to water, his face painfully emotional. As I stepped forward, in hopes comfort him, the young man suddenly turned and raced towards the door.

Thankfully, he was intercepted by Leslie's warm embrace.

She began to lead him out of the room, rubbing his back as she offered soothing words in his ear. Even though he had been a part of the Family for such a short time, the young lad had endured far too much tragedy, all with the bravery of a much older and wiser man.

It was then my attention was brought back the bed as Master Dick gasped, "Leslie, he's waking up!"

Looking over Master Bruce's face, I was just as shocked to see eyes fluttering, lips starting to come to life and his fingers slowly fluttering.

Thank you…

Being the closest, I retrieved a flashlight from the top drawer of the medical stand, dilating his eyes and speaking slowly in his soft voice. As I began asking if he knew where he was and if he felt any pain, Master Bruce began purposeful blinking, but not in the code we h ad long since agreed on: once for yes, twice for no.

His lids fluttered in confusion and fear.

Master Dick stepped forward, calling out Master Bruce's name as he touched his hands. Master Bruce witched in response, as if frightened by the gesture. Having released Master Tim, Leslie had stepped forward and began taking note of physiology and vitals, all the while trying to communicate with him.

As the panic in his eyes increased, I noted Leslie's face was growing with concern. I stepped forward, encouraging Master Dick to step back, doing my best to lock eyes with Master Bruce. Blue eyes once so decisive and bold were glancing about the room like a wild animal cornered.

"Alfred, what's---?" Master Dick had started.

I turned to face him, ordering rather than asking him to accompany Master Tim and Ms. Barbara out of the room. When he began to protest, I snapped, "Now, Richard!"

The young man looked to the figure on the bed once more before nodding, crossing the room quickly before guiding a teary-eyed Master Tim out of the room. Before he shut the door, they looked back at Master Bruce one last time only to see him hyperventilating in fear.

^V^


	3. Time Will Tell: II

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends. Done in a rotating Point Of View style.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: Revised chapter posted 2/7/10

^V^

As soon as I shut the double doors, Tim frantically asked, "What the hell is happening to him, Dick?"

Panicking, I forced myself to take a breath before offering, "Some confusion can be expected after being in a coma... Let Alfred and Leslie take care of him for now…"

Confusion, Bruce had looked as if he was reliving every single one of his worst nightmares all at once. Knowing Alfred wasn't going to let us back in until they had figured things out, I turned to face Dick and Barbara while putting on my best _everything is going to fine _face.

"What should we do?" Barbara asked, her tired face suddenly alive with worry.

A growl ripping through my stomach inspired me, "Well… it's almost five… I say we go downstairs and work on some breakfast and---."

Tim shook his head in disbelief, "What? How can you think about food?"

Barbara came to my rescue, "He's right… there's nothing we can do right now…" Tim went to speak but she cut him off, "Tim, sitting outside this room is going to give you ulcers."

He looked to the master bedroom at the sound of Leslie's muted voice conflicting with unintelligible sounds.

"Tim?" I stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, "Tim, come on… we'll fill up, coffee it up and then come back up here… it's going to be a long day…"

His eyes still on the door as the voices rose, he slowly nodded, "Fine… just for a minute."

As we rode down in the elevator, I felt Barbara's hand sneak over and grasp mine briefly. When I looked down at her, she smiled before nodding towards Tim. My eyes found him leaning against the back of the paneled car, arms crossed over his chest and face in turmoil. He would be sixteen years old in July and where most boys his age were worried about passing their road test, he was dealing with an unimaginable tragedy.

Hell, I was in my twenties and I was barely holding it together.

Passing into the open archway of the kitchen, I patted Tim on the shoulder, "Rule number one, no mess. Any mess made, we'll say the back door was left open and raccoons did it."

Tim smirked weakly before taking a seat on one of the island counter's stools.

As I perused the refrigerator, Barbara excused herself to the bathroom. Without her input, I decided to go with a timely breakfast as opposed to boisterous. Knowing that busy hands helped distract busy minds, I put Tim to work chopping up peppers, potatoes and onions for a hash. With him somewhat hard at work, I went about making a big skillet of scrambled eggs, although not the variety I was used to making with cheddar cheese and a third of a bottle of Frank's Red Hot sauce.

Little too early for that, even for me.

Barbara returned just as I was filling an iron griddle with the diced vegetables and when she asked if there was coffee was ready, I swore, "Sorry, I forgot about it."

"Typical, letting your stomach lead the way," she joked before approaching the automatic coffee maker. It was one of the few electronics Alfred allowed to remain out on his countertops. The entire battalion of cooking appliances each had their place in one of two dozen cupboards, coming out to serve their purpose, followed by a thorough cleaning before being put away.

For April Fool's one year, I had switched them all around.

Alfred had made me porridge for breakfast as a means of punishment.

The good old days.

Not fifteen minutes later, breakfast was ready and we were doing our best to eat in the nook. The looming silence and pre-dawn darkness had done little for our appetites, not to mention the worry of what was happening in a particular third floor bedroom…

After barely being able to empty half of his plate, Tim rose from the table and said e was going to wash up and change for the day. Before leaving he had added, "I'm calling into school… but I'll tell Dad I went in early."

"Excellent sidekick cover story," Barbara replied.

Tim nodded before commenting, "Getting a little too good at them, lately."

Alone, I finally allowed myself to sit back with a heavy sigh. Given how hectic things had been over the last three days, I really hadn't allotted myself to let things sink in. Optimistically, I had kept telling myself that everything was going to be okay once he woke up. He'd be out of commission for a month or two, but we would take care of the city. Then, once Leslie had given him the all clear, he'd suit back up and we'd all live happily ever after.

The terrified look on Bruce's face had crushed my hopes.

"Dick?"

I looked at her for a moment and then concentrated on the cooling eggs before me. "When he started blinking, I thought it was code but it… It was just blinking… And then he just…" I rose to my feet, pacing back and force, "Jesus, Babs, he was hyperventilating! He was supposed to wake up and… he… he should have... He should have just the sonofabitch's once more and finished him off..."

Barbara had pushed herself away from the table, placing herself in my path as I about faced. My fists ached as I clenched them and when she reached for my hand, I loosened them.

"I'm sorry. He--- This could have been your dad."

"Don't be Dick."

"I still am."

She nodded before letting go of me, "I know." After returning to the table, Barbara continued, "Suppose I should go down to the Cave, lure Cass up here."

"She came up after patrols?" I asked, I as I joined her in collecting the used dishware.

Nodding, she replied, "She was still in Bryanttown when I signed off, and when we left the Clinic I called her and she was in the Village… I told her to come up when she was done."

With the sky lightening outside the bay windows, I wondered if Barbara would find her in the Cave or the tireless Cassandra Cain was still in the city, brutalizing thugs of all shapes and sizes.

Although we had all taken Bruce's injury to heart, our most recent addition to the Family was suffering just as if she had been with us all along. Cassandra's devotion to Bruce was unquestionable, and seeing her revert to her near mute ways after the shooting had been difficult to bear. We all had endured tragedy in our lives but Cassandra's horrific upbringing had topped us all.

Barbara and I agreed that becoming a part of the Family had been her salvation, that the young girl looked up to Bruce as the father she never had but the one she had always dreamed of.

A dream that wasn't meant to end.

^V^

After Tim returned, we quickly cleaned up the kitchen and opted to wait downstairs for news from Alfred and Leslie. As the boys turned right towards the den, I kept to the left in order to head to the elevator once more.

To access the Cave, I retrieved my key ring to open the small hatch, then pressed my palm to the scanner and spoke my pass code aloud for audio clearance. While Bruce's was a line from Faust, mine was from Fargo, "I'm not sure I agree with you a hundred percent on your police work, there, Lou." Once the Computer decided I was in fact Barbara Gordon, the elevator car shifted and then slowly descended into the floor of the Cave.

Thankfully, she had made the trek to the Cave although rather than coming up to join us, she had changed into lyrca pants and a tank top and was in the training bay. Following the sound of chains chiming, I found her on the gymnast rings in the midst of inverse. The quivering in her arms and the redness in her face said she had been holding herself upside down for some time.

Rather than interrupt her, I watched on as she allowed her straight form to complete two full rotations before hesitating once more on the inverse stand, followed by two backwards rotation. As she dismounted using a double tuck with her arms straight out to the side, I moved closer to the dark blue mats and grabbed a towel off of a rack.

After I tossed it to her, she caught it and wiped her sweat-covered face.

"Been back long?" I asked.

She shrugged. When I asked how long specifically, she shrugged again, "Half hour."

Watching her stretch her back out, I informed her of what had happened upstairs. A lightness washed over her face that quickly vanished when I had explained what condition we had left Bruce in.

"Okay?"

"Alfred and Leslie are with him now… but we're in the den waiting from them… when you're ready."

"Ready now," she offered.

"Don't want to wash up?"

Shaking her head, Cassandra explained, "Not done working."

Of course.

She joined me in the elevator after grabbing a bottle of water from the small fridge on the far wall of the training bay. As the car began its ascension, my cell phone chirped from my pocket and I was quick to answer, "Hello?"

"Hey, sweetheart. it's just me," my father's tired voice greeted me, "Did I wake you?"

"No, I've been up for a bit…"

"Oh… I… just called the Clinic, they…. They said Leslie left with a patient in an ambulance… Barbara… I… I think something happened to him…"

"Dad. They took him home."

"What?"

Lying, I explained, "I called around midnight, just to check in… they said he had been stable long enough for transport…"

He cleared his throat, a nervous habit of his, and asked, "Anything else, any change?"

I nodded, biting my lip before saying, "Dad, he's… still unconscious, but Leslie said there was some EEG activity so hopefully it won't be long."

"Damnit… I knew I should have gone down again last night…"

"Maybe, you could still visit him---."

"No, Barbara… I don't want to intrude…"

The elevator doors opened and Cassandra lead the way out, "Dad… He's your friend… I'm sure they wouldn't see it as an intrusion."

Silence and then, "I guess… Well, get some sleep, sweetheart."

"You, too, Dad."

By the time I had joined the others in the den, Cass had taken a seat on the leather couch beside Tim. Rather then move onto the couch, I remained in my chair and moved to sit beside Dick. I told him about my father's call, and more importantly, how concerned he had been.

"You did the right thing, not telling him he's awake," Dick nodded as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"Are we going to wait until he's back in the tights before telling my father he's even awake?"

Dick winced before responding, "No one needs to know yet. We don't even know what his condition is."

"Yes we do," Leslie's voice came from the door.

We looked in her direction to see her as well as Alfred standing just inside the room. She walked forward as she continued, "He has lost all forms of communication: speech, sign, writing. From what I can tell, he has no understanding of what happened to him or for that matter, he has no understanding of who anyone is. I tried to do a neurological exam but I couldn't get him to follow my directions. The only good news I have is that he appears to have full use of his vision, hearing and pain receptors."

Dick lifted a hand to cover his mouth as Tim and Cass left their slack jaws uncovered. Since I had known this was a possibility from the beginning, I was quick to ask about his other injuries, "What about the bullet by his spine?"

Leslie nodded, "No permanent damage that I can see. All of his reflexes are a little sluggish, but in order."

Tim spoke as he rose from the couch, "Can we see him?"

"No. I have him sedated until we can truly ascertain the extent of the brain damage. For now, I'd prefer if only Alfred and myself dealt with him. Less confusion leads to less pain for him."

The silence of the room allowed my head to echo with Leslie's words: brain damage. A man I admired, honored and loved, a man who knew everything about anything and more… had lost what meant the most to him.

His mind.

When Bane had paralyzed him, he had confided in me that he finally understood how I was able to think so clearly in the chair. He had admitted at being frustrated, and also intrigued with how everything had gained a more potent perspective. I had told him that without the body we still had our better half.

Now it was reversed, he had his body but no longer could he control it.

^V^

I left Leslie to answer questions for my concerned charges in order to tend to Master Bruce.

He had reached such a panicked state that only the most powerful of sedatives were able to put him into a fitful slumber. Although Leslie was far more concerned with his inability to communicate, I was unable to look beyond the feral look in his eyes as they shot bolts of pain into my soul.

It had reminded me of when he was a child, waking in the middle of the night screaming for his father to save him.

Entering the master bedroom, I was pleased to find him snoring softly in a peaceful, albeit drug induced, slumber. Upon closer inspection, the muscles around his eyes twitched randomly, a sure sign of the nightmares that plagued him.

As Leslie had been conducting her examinations, Master Bruce had desperately tried to communicate with stuttering mumbles that went unexplained. His eyes danced violently, trying to understand the world around him. Even without all of the most expensive tests and doctors, I had known just by looking at him that something was terribly wrong.

The powerful presence he once expelled, even in states of infirm, was no longer present. It was as if his spirit had left his body on the filthy patch of street and I thought morbidly it was just as his parents had died.

Only he hadn't left this world to join them.

After dampening a wash cloth with cold water, I moved to Master Bruce's bedside, placing it on his forehead.

No, what he suffered was much worse for no matter how terrible, everyone cherished their memories.

The twitching ceased at his eyes and he sighed deeply with content.

"Sleep, young sir. No harm shall come your way this day."

Letting my thoughts run wild, I sat at his bedside for another hour, watching for any sign of him waking and yet at the same time hoping he would not. With our worst fears realized, a long road to recovery was growing before all of us. He would have to relive his entire life, so to speak, building his way back to what he was step by step. In some fashion, he had been given a fresh start through tragedy, one that I was beginning to wonder about.

Given that he was able to learn once more the skills of life, would he be able to learn the skills that had lead him down the path of vigilantism? Would he want to?

My thoughts, both light and dark, were interrupted as Leslie entered the room. She smiled at me before opening the blackout drapes, letting in soft, pink rays of sunlight. As she joined me by the bed, she kissed the top of my head before sitting beside Master Bruce, barely denting the mattress with her petite frame.

"At least he's comfortable now."

I nodded, removing the used cloth, "That he is."

As she took his hand into hers, she sighed, "I wish I could help him. God... At least to be able to communicate with him, but if he can't speak or even sign---"

"Master Bruce has a way of overcoming obstacles, I'm fairly certain that this qualifies," I assured her.

"Taking on a mob by himself is nothing compare to this, Alfred."

I watched as she gently touched his rough cheek. We both had been left as surrogate parents when Master Thomas and Ms. Martha had been slain so many years ago. We had shared the hardships of raising such an intelligent and yet disturbed young boy. Knowing the future his parents had wanted nothing but the best for him, we had done everything in our power to allow their dream to be realized. It was with our guidance and love that he had grown from that boy into a far more intelligent and disturbed man...

Now, as his future slipped through our fingers, it seemed that I was not the only one who was rethinking how he had been raised.

^V^

I watched from the door.

Dr. Leslie and Alfred looked so sad as they watched him sleep.

I hadn't been able to sleep since he was shot.

I knew it was my fault. If I had followed him into the building, he would have been okay.

He was awake, but still… he could die.

All my fault.

It had been hard, listening to Dr. Leslie tell us about his condition. Dick, Barbara and Tim were talking about how things were going to change. I didn't have anything to say, so I had left.

Walking upstairs, I drifted through the halls. Wandering put me at ease.

Sitting still was torture.

Being helpless.

Dr. Leslie got up and walked over to the bathroom, letting me see him on the bed.

They had removed some of the bandages from his face, looked like he was sleeping.

The last time I had seen him awake had been when he was shot. Laying on the pavement, Robin and the big detective pressing on his wounds. Commissioner holding his hand, calling out his name.

He was looking around, looking up at us. Seemed okay, considering he was bleeding so much…

"Cassandra?" a voice asked softly from behind me.

I drew a breath then turned to see Dick.

I didn't say anything, as usual.

"You can't be up here," he grabbed my arm softly and guided me towards the inner hall.

"I know."

When we were away from the doors, he spoke louder, "Then why are you up here?"

"I… don't know. Wanted see him."

"We all do, but we have to wait. Right now… seeing him like he is…" Dick ran a hand through his short hair, "It will upset him… and he needs to rest… to get better."

"If."

"What?"

"If he get better."

His eyes narrowed, "We can't think like that… we don't know anything, it might be temporary, it might fade away in a few days, a few weeks."

Barbara always said Dick saw the best in everything while Bruce saw the worst.

I guess I was like Bruce.

"When see him? Few days, weeks?"

He paused before answering, "No… once he's… once he's able to stay calm we can see him, Leslie just wants to make sure he's not going to shock his system with too much happening at once."

I nodded, knowing I wasn't going to wait that long.

All my fault.

After a moment, I asked, "Who out with me?"

"What?" he asked, not completely fluent in my short language.

"At night," I stuck my index fingers up to the sides of my head, imitating a cowl.

"Robin, of course… and myself. For however long you need me."

"You be him? Or you?"

His eyes darted back and forth as he figure out what I meant. He swallowed hard before answering, "I... I think for the time being. Until he recovers that is..."

"Be him."

Nodding, Dick replied, "I suppose. Unless you don't---"

"Okay me," I pointed at myself and then pointed to him, "Okay you?"

"I've done it once before… but he asked me to…Now, what other choice do we have?"

My eyes found the bedroom door as I nodded.

He set a hand on my shoulder, squeezing before saying, "It's going to be, okay Cass. He's alive… he's awake… that in itself is a miracle."

No, he was physically able of coming back from the bullet wounds. Alfred said he had been through worse.

As Dick guided me back towards the stairs, I thought that a miracle would be if he got his mind back.

If Batman came back.

^V^


	4. Time Will Tell: III

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been updated from its original version to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

I saw it happen every time I closed my eyes. Every time I tried to sleep.

I saw the gun pointing at me.

I saw Pasqualle's finger tightening around the trigger.

I saw Barbara's face flash before my eyes.

And then it had been darkness as three shots ring out. I had expected fierce pain to fill my body but I was only met with cold pavement. When my eyes had opened, I saw officers running towards me. As I had tried to tell them I hadn't been hit, they had passed right by me and continued on towards the restaurant. They had been running to the dark, caped figure lying on the ground twenty feet in front of me.

Alone, I had somehow made it to my feet before stumbling to him, not out of pain but shock.

He was invincible, my mind had repeated, he can't be hurt…

Robin was kneeling in front of him, pressing his hands on a blood-spurting hole in Batman's chest. Harvey Bullock had ripped a sleeve off of his trench coat and was staunching the flow from a belly wound.

Bright red arterial blood was everywhere.

Please, I had pleaded silently, don't let him die.

I had knelt next to him and found his hand, which was slick with his own blood. His jaw had grown paler with each passing second. Although I had done my best to meet his eyes as he nodded at me, I had been unable to look away from the gaping dark hole on his left brow.

With robin and Bullock doing their best to stop the bleeding, I had done what I could to keep him conscious by talking to him, gripping his gloved hand and towards the end, patting his face. It hadn't been long before his grip on my hand weakened and turned cold.

It was usually then that I found myself shooting up in bed, covered in a cold sweat after reliving the worst night of my life once more.

On some level, I had been thankful that I hadn't dreamed about him being loaded into the ambulance and how the medics had called out orders, namely, "Starting compressions!"

Mentally wasted after that first night after he had been shot, I had forced myself to work a full day in order to keep my mind occupied. After visiting him at the free clinic, I had made my way home, downed a fifth of scotch and then slept fitfully. Upon waking, I had instinctively looked to my hands to see that were clean of his blood.

I had tried to fool myself into thinking that it had all been a dream. That it had just been a delusion of my aged and over-stressed mind. In the darkness of my empty house, I had walked to the kitchen, microwaved a stale cup of coffee and instinctively called Barbara.

No answer.

Before setting my cell phone down, I had noticed that the display had listed a missed call from none other than my daughter. Listening to her recorded, tired voice, I had a list of facts to prove that it hadn't been a dream, "Hey, Dad it's just me… It's a little after midnight, so I figured I'd call the clinic and check in on him for you. Leslie said his vitals are good but his temperature is still high… hopefully the IV antibiotics will kick whatever is brewing… If you go see him tomorrow, let me know, I'll go with you. Love you."

It hadn't been a dream.

It had been a nightmare.

Although he had saved my life numerous times over the years, I had a horrible feeling that he would never be able to do so again. Never return to the war he had taken upon himself. Never see his family or friends again. Never wake---.

I had taken a valium that night, hoping that a numb sleep would keep me from seeing my friend fall once more. But as I had for three nights in a row, I jumped up in bed, the only light belonging to the orange glow of the street lamp outside my window. After catching my breath, I reached for my glasses on the night table and donned them just as the alarm clock shifted to a quarter of five. I nearly reached for my cell phone to call Barbara but feared to wake her in case she had been able to find sleep.

Rather than give into the impulse of rising at such an hour, I reclined back against the pillows, letting my left arm stretch out over the empty space. Sarah had been gone for nearly a year and a half and yet I still couldn't find it in myself to sleep in the middle of the bed.

The only peace of mind I found had been knowing the Joker was never going to see the light of day thanks to his federal incarceration in Virginia, seeing how Arkham had never been able to keep him under wraps…

One less horror to haunt my nights.

I managed to lay there for fifteen minutes before calling the clinic, hoping for any good news they could offer. Instead, a nurse informed me that Dr. Thompkins had left to transport a patient.

No…

Pushing back the covers, I swung my legs over the end of the mattress before dialing Barbara. After she confirmed my suspicions that they had taken Batman from the clinic, she tried to reassure me by saying that it was a good sign he was sable enough to move. When she suggested that I may still be able to visit with him, I had instinctively shut her down. No matter how close of a friendship I shared with their mentor, his proteges would do anything to protect his secrets.

After hanging up, I carefully set the phone back down on the oak nightstand rather than throwing it against the wall in frustration.

Finally getting to my feet, I pulled on an dark terrycloth house coat before making my way downstairs to the kitchen. Rather than warm up a cup of old coffee, I dumped the pot and washed it out before changing the filter and setting it to start a fresh brew. Barbara had dropped by the day before with groceries, knowing that I had seen the inside of a supermarket in over a week.

I wouldn't be able to live without her.

Sitting at the small kitchen tale, I stared at the back door, thinking of countless late night visits he had made, dropping of evidence, giving insigth to sale cases and leads to crimes he had already solved.

Gotham wouldn't be able to live without him.

^V^

It was dark. I couldn't see. I was lost, I knew it.

It hurt to breathe, to move, to think. Not that I could think that much.

It hurt. I just wish I knew what to do.

It was so dark. I could sort of see. Not much light.

The man was there. He was old. Am I old? No. Just hurt.

Can barely move. Where was she? The woman?

And the young boy?

Was there anyone?

I wish I could have seen, but it was so dark.

He said something, but it was all blurred. I could hear, right?

Maybe I was blind, too.

Where was she? She could help me.

There, she had a cloth. Washing my chest. It was white. No, now it was red...

She looked sad.

I think. So dark.

He made a light appear from somewhere, a soft light.

I could see him better. White shirt, dark coat and pants. A small moustache. A frown.

She was older, too. Blue blouse and tan pants. A smaller frown.

Something burned on my side and I made some sort of noise. A squeak.

They both looked at me and said something. I couldn't understand.

They looked even sadder.

I wished it would be dark again.

So I couldn't see them being sad.

I closed my eyes.

Sleep. Pretend to sleep.

^V^

Shortly after he opened them, Bruce clenched his eyes shut and made small moaning noises. When I called his name softly, he made no verbal or physical response.

Wherever he was, he didn't want to come out.

I signaled to Alfred to remain silent as we stood next to the bed. Once ten minutes passed, Bruce's eyes opened once more, revealing bloodshot whites and dilated pupils. Upon disregarding the bandages, his pale skin and rough jaw made him look like he had simply awoken from a rough night's sleep.

Tentatively, he began to look around, squinting and blinking as if trying to focus his vision through willpower. Given the amount of cranial pressure he had endured in the first twelve hours following the shooting, I had feared damage to sensory nerves steaming off of his brain. Before I could begin to fear him suffering impaired vision, he stopped blinking and began scanning the room.

Alfred put a hand on my elbow, pulling me back a stride.

Bruce's right hand pushed down on the bed as if trying to prop himself up. He barely came off of the mattress before his face cringed in pain, the arm collapsing as he lay back down.

I mused, Respecting his body limits.

His lips quivered before opening to bare his lower teeth. Working his jaw back and forth slowly as if trying to unhinge it, the very tip of his tongue peeked out and then snuck back in. Shortly after, his lips formed different shapes, but not as words.

Going by my limited ability as a lip reader, he said something to the sort of: Able me be ka nun.

Although no vocalization had been made, it was a sign that he was trying to speak.

My entire being wanted to run to him and provide comfort and encuragement, to try and reach out to him any way that would work. Staying in place, just two yards from the bed, I thought back on the panicked terror that had over taken him when he had first opened his eyes a little over an hour earlier.

Although I would be comforted by holding his hand or kissing his bandaged brow, I felt it would only startle him.

Apparently, Alfred felt otherwise.

Before I could stop him, Alfred stepped towards the bed, taking a seat on the edge before smiling down at his charge. Bruce had jerked slightly at his sudden appearance, but surprisingly relaxed after a jerking nod. As his lips began to move without coordination's once more, Alfred replied to the silent babble. As he listed off the injuries, I felt my eyes grow hot, thinking how it was as if it was just another morning, Bruce waking after being injured on the streets.

"There we are, sir, no need to suffer on the account of a rumpled pillow," Alfred commented before puffing up the pillow behind Bruce's head.

Bruce moaned, let his head roll to the side, his eyes finding me before he moved his lips again.

Alfred continued his one way conversation, "Ah, yes, I'm afraid your injuries were quite severe, Master Bruce… Dr. Thompkins has been most kind in devoting her time to putting you back together."

He then stood to his feet, straightening out his sweater before announcing he was going to fetch materials to clean Bruce up with. From the bed, Bruce had watched Alfred walk away, straining his neck when he could no longer see him. His breaths became heavy and forced, and rather than let him become upset, I took action.

"It's all right, Bruce, he'll be right back…" I said softly, before stepping up to the bed, "Far be it for Alfred to let you start the day unwashed."

Bruce studied me intently, pursed his lips together and then offered another twitch of a nod.

Acknowledgement, I hoped, rather than a neurological tic.

Alone with him, I gently sat on the bed, setting my hand out next to Bruce's but not touching. Somehow, I managed to hold my smile as he looked up at me, without any hint of recognition in his eyes, "You gave us quite a scare, Bruce… One that I hope you won't be repeating any time soon."

His lip twitched and I found myself laughing out loud at the familiar gesture, even if it hadn't been intended. He wasn't out of the woods by any means but perhaps it was a sign, the first of many in what would no doubt be a very long, painful road to recovery. One that, judging by the last three days, his Family would be there to support, step by step.

Alfred emerged from the bathroom with a hand towel, and two small bowls, one with warm water the other with shaving cream. Rather than his customary straight razor, I noticed that he had brought a safety razor. "How modern of you, Alfred," I commented.

"It will have to do for the time being… Once we get you sitting upright, sir, it will be back to tradition."

Another lip twitch.

I rose from the bed and proceeded to clear the night stand for Alfred to use. Pushing the lamp to the far corner, I collected the prepared IV bags and sterile packets of catheters, needles and syringes and set them on the nearby chaise. Returning, I watched on as Alfred tentatively wiped Bruce's face with the warm cloth before removing the oxygen cannula. Surprisingly, Bruce remained still, his eyes transfixed on Alfred's hands as they moved over him.

Clean shaven, hair brushed and face, neck and arms washed, Alfred rose from the bed once more, "Dashing to the last, Master Bruce."

"Deh."

It was the first sound he had made outside of hyperventilating and it was music to my ears.

^V^

There had been such concentration in his eyes that I had found myself thinking back to observing him practice katas or weight lift inhuman amounts in the Cave's training bay. Although, rather than physically testing himself, Master Bruce was trying himself mentally.

Leslie and I looked down at him as his head rolled to the left and then to the right. After another thirty seconds of silence, he uttered, "Guh."

Rather than simply stare down at him, dumbfounded, I resumed sitting on the edge of the bed, squeezing his thick forearm with my hand, "Is that so, Master Bruce?"

"Duh," he said before looking up at my face.

I felt Leslie's hands grasp my shoulder before I replied, "Yes, sir, I can hear you."

"Da. Duh. Aaa. Duh."

"I would beg to differ, sir, it certainly isn't your normal waking hour but for others it is quite normal to be awake shortly after dawn."

A wave of confusion washed over his face and his lips twitched, "Duh."

As Master Bruce forced his head back against the pillows, I glanced up at Leslie, smiling at her shocked look of disbelief.

Looking back to Master Bruce, he had relaxed his form although his face tightened before saying, "Uh… uh… uhm."

I felt a wet drop on the back of my neck as Leslie's tears began to roll down her cheeks. I turned to offer her my handkerchief but she declined it.

Master Bruce had resumed to repeat, "Uh… uh…" until it had given way to wet coughs. I quickly moved to help him sit more upright, forcing pillows lower beneath him in order to support the weight I could not. After a hoarse bark, dark red phlegm was expelled from his mouth, covering his chest.

As Leslie retrieved gauze to clean him with, I patted his back gently until the coughs gave way to slow breathing, "There there, Master Bruce… no doubt anyone would have struggled to expel that."

"Mostly mucous…" she commented before stepping to the bathroom to dispose of it. Returning, she added, "No doubt it was from the pleural effusion, stagnating in his bronchioles." Retrieving her stethoscope, she listened to his deep breaths as they entering his trachea, passed through the bronchi and at several points within the lungs.

"Prognosis?"

"Breath sounds are much better…" she nodded before hanging the device around the back of her neck, "Well done, Bruce."

As expected, she went about taking the remainder of his vitals, double checking the numbers broadcasted on the monitors the old fashioned way. As she flashed her pen light over both of his eyes, noting that the left was still sluggish, he blinked rapidly in protest.

Taking after my lead in using normal conversation with him, Leslie apologized, "I'm sorry, Bruce, it has to be done."

He blinked at her again and then looked to me, licking his lips with an effort unworthy of the task. I nodded and he returned his gaze to her shocked face.

After selecting an otoscope from the collection of instruments she had moved to the chaise, she proceeded to check his ears, at which he shook his head, "Nah. Den."

"Oh, quit complaining and hold still," Leslie smiled sadly.

Regarding me once more, I seta hand on his forearm again, "Doctor's orders are not to be ignored, Master Bruce."

Turmoil danced behind his eyes as confusion washed over his face once more, as if his greatest hero had turned out to be nothing but a fantasy.

…_How can you pass up Zorro?_

…_I'm not the swashbuckling type, young sir._

The night he had lost his parents, he had also lost innocence as two thunder cracks sounded in the dark. A young Master Bruce had returned that night not lost in the sleepy stupor of happiness from a night at the movies, but in the zombie-like trance of traumatic shock. Morbidly, I mused that it while he had lost his chance at a normal life through tragedy, perhaps this latest event would grant him a second chance… perhaps.

"He seems comfortable," Leslie commented as she pocketed the otoscope and penlight in her smock top, "I think Dick was right, him waking up at home would be more welcoming, even if he doesn't know where… where it…" her words faded as she crossed her hands over her chest.

I rose to my feet in order to set my hands on her elbows, "Leslie, he is alive and relatively well… both of which by any means are miracles… whatever obstacles lie ahead, we will muster through them."

Her eyes found Master Bruce's face, "I hope so."

He remained dormant for a time, staring off into nothingness until I sat down beside him once more. Mumbling, he lifted his right arm off of the mattress nearly two inches before letting it fall once more. When I said his name, he showed no sign of hearing me and proceeded to tilt his head back and dragged his right hand over his abdomen, reaching for mine.

Grasping it softly, I ignored how cold and clammy his palm was, "Very good, sir."

His lips twitched again, this time smirking for a second before returning to the frown.

More jargon fell from his lips, nothing more than a mixture of maons, consonants and vowels. As Leslie and I continued to converse with him, he responded by trying even harder.

I smiled to see that concentration began to overcome the confusion on his face.

^V^

Alfred and Leslie had stayed in Bruce's bedroom, alone, for the entire day.

I had made six trips up to the third floor, taking the steps two at a time both going up and down. Each time I had knocked on the door, I had been met with the same reply: No, I couldn't come in.

Barbara had returned to Gotham a little after noon but where the former Batgirl seemed enthusiastic about the developments, the current had been solemn and woeful. Having spent the three previous days being able to sit by Bruce's bedside, it had been torture to not be able to look at him for a minute. I had a feeling Cassandra was going to take her frustration out on some unsuspecting criminal.

Accepting defeat, Cassandra and I had lured Tim into the Cave to spar and workout for the afternoon, before outlining patrols for that night. In Bludhaven, I generally drifted through the boroughs looking for trouble, but in Bruce's city, I couldn't help but play by Bruce's rules.

Before suiting up, I had decided to run upstairs one last time, hoping to talk some sense into Alfred, or at the very least kick the door down. As I walked quickly down the corridor leading to the master bedroom, I spotted Alfred just stepping through them. When he caught sight of me, he offered, "MAster dick… I'm afraid he's resting at the moment."

"If he's sleeping, he can't see me, Alfred. He won't---."

He interjected, "Master Dick… he is resting, not sleeping. After the trials he has faced, he needs as quiet and peaceful of an atmosphere as possible."

Somehow, I kept myself from punching the wall before replying, "Alfred, I just want to see him… just for one second… We're leaving for the city soon… if something were to happen while we were gone…"

He paused before me, reaching out to set a hand on my arm, "He will be here, well rested, upon our return, sir. I assure you."

I could have easily knocked Alfred down, barged into the room and had my way.

But not in defiance of a Pennyworth promise.

Returning to the Cave, Cassandra and Tim had already suited up, Tim already sporting his domino mask while hers hung between her shoulder blades. Before they could ask if I had been able to see Bruce, Barbara's tired face came over the main monitor.

"What is it?" Robin asked instinctively.

"Signal, although nothing is on the scanners… I think… I think Dad just wants to talk to you," her eyes found me courtesy of the image she was receiving.

I nodded, "We'll be there in twenty."

After she signed off, I turned to walk over to the costume vault, my gut already churning at the thought of which mask I would be wearing that night. Although I had stepped in for Bruce before, it still never made putting the cowl on in his stead any easier. I suited up as Robin and Batgirl proceeded to check the fuel on the Mobile. Since Batgirl had left her bike in the city, she had planned on sharing shotgun with Robin. An uncomfortable fit but it was only fourteen miles.

Wearing everything but the cowl, I took a moment to look at myself in the waist high mirror of the vault. After days with no sleep, my eyes had been paired with dark circles and my skin had taken on a slight pallor. I had two days worth of scuff on my jaw and eyes that were borderline bloodshot. Pulling on the mask, all of Bruce Wayne's problems were forgotten so that Batman would be able to focus on his work.

With the cowl in place, Batman stared back at me, although his problems were also Dick Grayson's.

The ride into Gotham had been silent with even the police scanners offering little activity. Then again it was barely seven-thirty, the night was far from over. Reaching police headquarters, I nearly told Batgirl and Robin to wait in the Mobile, but then decided to invite them along. Strength in numbers.

Gordon was standing beside the Signal, his back to us as we landed soundlessly. A strong breeze passed by, bringing life to our capes, drawing his gaze towards us. Robin perched on the edge of the rooftop. Batgirl standing stoically, arms crossed over her chest.

Then the last figure, a man wearing a bat-like cowl and a long jagged cape.

"B--- Batman?" he stuttered in disbelief, before realizing the man that stood before him wasn't his best friend.

"Yes, Commissioner." Among the many skills I had had to perfect under Bruce's tutelage was ventriloquism and voice acting. Although I had a fairly good handle on his growl, it still wasn't perfect, especially to those who knew him well.

"You can tell me, you know. I can handle the truth," Gordon looked at me, forcing his gaze to be stern, "I deserve that much, I think."

After looking over my shoulder and nodding at Batgirl and Robin, I turned back to the commissioner, "Your office."

He opened his mouth to speak but then reluctantly nodded, about facing to the rooftop's service door. Rather than follow him, I waited for my masked comrades to make their descent back down to the Mobile before leaping off of the rooftop myself. With mastered ease from years of practice, I landed on his window ledge, let myself in and situated myself in the far right corner.

Gordon walked in two minutes later, not even bothering to seek me out in the room before shutting the door and asking, "Is he dead?"

I had been caught off guard by his bluntness. In fact, it was at that very moment that I realized I had no idea what I intended to tell him about Bruce's condition given how little I knew. If Leslie was right, if Bruce had lost everything, then the Batman that Gordon knew, the one he had worked alongside for years, was dead.

Dark thoughts flooding my mind, I replied quietly, "Yes."

He took a moment before turning to face me, his lower lip quivering.

Dropping the growl from my voice, I let the lie unfold further, "It... It happened earlier this evening. He went into cardiac arrest... But he was still comatose so... It was painless."

He suddenly seemed unsteady on his feet but as I reached out to him, he stepped back, taking a seat on his desk, "No..."

"Dr. Thompkins believes that in the event he had ever woken up. It would have been a life of vegetation. Not a life for him. Maybe, this is better..."

Tears began slipping over his rough cheeks, and yet the only comfort I could offer him was, "I'm sorry, sir."

When his eyes found me, I felt as if he was looking right through the cowl and brave front I was barely maintaining. It was like he was seeing the once youthful vigilante behind the guise, the young boy who did back flips on the edge of the roof while he had talked to my mentor…

Finally, he reached up and wiped his face with his hand, "No, son. You're right. Maybe it's better if he..."

Despite the fact that I knew Bruce was alive, the realization that the man he once had been no longer was, I felt my eyes grow hot and wet.

"So, you're going to come back to Gotham?"

"Yes."

Gordon was one of the strongest men I knew, and yet seeing him so emotionally weak…

Before making my way to the window, I paused in front of him, accepting his hand as it settled on my shoulder, "Good. This city will always need you, Batman."

I nodded curtly, "And I'll always... be here."

Upon returning to the Mobile, I was surprised to see that Batgirl and Robin were still waiting for me. Even though the hour was early, there was plenty of ground to cover, especially between the three of us. Still trying to recover from confronting Gordon, I avoided their intent looks of inquiry while I unlocked the hatch.

"Well?" Robin finally asked.

"Well, what?" I growled before facing him.

"What did you tell him?"

There was an eerie moment before I replied, "I told him he was dead."

"Why'd you do that?" he yelped. I would have smiled but I was wearing the wrong mask for displaying amusement.

I waited for Batgirl to protest as well, but naturally, she remained silent.

Robin stepped forward, ready to demand an answer of me but I beat him to the chase, "We need to accept the fact that the Batman, the Bruce, the whoever you want to call him is indeed dead. He isn't going to magically remember everything and go back into the life he had. He isn't going to be the same. Ever," I paused, invading his personal space by looming over him, "Do you got that? he's not alive for anyone else. No slip ups, no goofs, no nothing. Only you two, me, Alfred, Leslie and Barbara can know the truth."

After they both nodded, slow with shock, I continued while trying to suppress some of the growl in my voice, "What we need to do now is support him in his recovery, but we also need to make sure that the city is taken care of. We all know how much that meant to him…"

"Oracle know, tell father?" Batgirl asked softly.

"No, she'll keep it to herself. She respects Bruce enough to lie to her father. She's done it before---"

A beep emitted from the comm. link, grabbing our attention. It was followed by Barbara's angry and tear-stricken face. "Damn you, Dick. Why didn't you call me? Why the hell---?"

"Calm down."

"Calm down? He dies and no one tells me and you want me to calm down?"

"He's not..." I started.

She snapped back, "What? He's not dead?"

"No."

"Then why the hell did my father just call me in tears?!"

"I had to, I'm sorry."

"What do you mean you had to?"

"He's not ever going to be the same, you know that---."

Barbara cut me off again, "You don't know that! You know what my father said? 'I killed my best friend.' So I hope your master plan is worth it enough to break my father's heart."

Click.

With Batgirl and Robin still staring up at me, their faces even more shocked than they had been a moment earlier, I told myself I had done the right thing. A brief and harder grief was better than tormenting oneself with wonder and false hopes. What difference would it make if Gordon thought his close ally was dead in more than just spirit? The man behind the mask was a vessel, one that was there to carry out the war on crime no matter what.

As he had said, Gotham would always need Batman.

And he would always be there.

^V^


	5. Time Will Tell: IV

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been updated from its original version to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

It was much brighter. But there was no one to look at.

He left a little while ago, but I didn't know where she was.

I wasn't scared though.

I couldn't sit up. My head felt like it was a thousand pounds.

But it didn't hurt as much to breathe.

I could see a lot of light when I looked towards the window.

They were closed.

I think.

I was confused so easily. I koew what I wanted to say but it comes out all mumbled and confused. But I knew things.

Right?

She was back.

I could understand what they say. At first it was so hard, but it was much easier.

"How about something to drink?"

She had a glass of water with a straw.

I was thirsty. But how did it come out of the glass?

She put the straw in my mouth for me and just stared at me.

I breathed into the straw and bubbles formed in the glass. Some specks hit my nose.

"Drink, Bruce."

But how?

I blew again and even more splattered.

She reached with her other hand and began to tickle my throat. I swallowed in response and a bit of cool water came into my mouth. She stopped tickling my throat and the swallowing ended.

Water dribbled out of my mouth and ran down my neck.

She wiped the water with the sheet, "Try again."

The second time, I swallowed on my own. The water actually came up easier and went down my throat in a few seconds.

A few sips and I was exhausted.

I spat the straw out.

"That better?" she asked.

I tried to smile, but it only half worked. Half of my face felt as if it wasn't even there.

Maybe it wasn't.

I hoped not.

I was about to try to talk again when there was a loud banging noise. She looked away from me and got up after touching my arm.

She'd be back.

I hoped

^V^

I hadn't seen Bruce in over twenty-four hours.

As the time neared eight in the morning, I had lost all regard for Leslie and Alfred's orders to stay away. Having been up all morning after Batman's victorious return to Gotham, I was on my last nerve. After leaving GCPD, we had scattered throughout the city, making our presence well known to all levels of criminals. Although we had scoured the entire city, I still felt as if we hadn't accomplished anything.

Despite the terrorized looks as I jumped down on fleeing thugs…

With Tim no doubt trying to function at his first class of the day, I was alone in the Cave with no one to talk me out of it. After telling Jim Gordon that Bruce was dead, I needed to remind myself that he was still breathing. I was unable to get the concept out of my head. Bruce was dead.

It was heart-breaking that the man I considered to be my father was gone.

Finally changing out of the rest of the suit, I washed up and put on a pair of dark blue sweatpants and a long sleeved tee shirt.

Donning the clothes, they were a bit too big for me and I had to forcibly swallow upon realizing they were Bruce's.

Trekking upstairs, I pressed my ear to the door, listening to Leslie and Alfred's muted conversation. Footsteps began to approach the door, and I quickly sought refuge in the sitting room across the hall. I heard Bruce's door open and close before Alfred's distinct footfalls traveled down the hall and out of range.

My plan had been to force my way into the room, even if it was only to catch a glimpse of him slightly propped up in bed.

Exiting the sitting room, I quietly crossed the plush carpet and knocked on the right hand door.

Leslie answered moments later, "Did you get lost, Alfred---" When she looked at me she gasped, "Dick, you can't---"

"I have to, I'm sorry. I just want to see him. Is he asleep?"

"No. He's awake... Please. Don't do this."

As much as I loved Leslie, I loved him more. With my weight being twice hers, I shoved the door open and walked in.

Each one of the blackout drapes had been pulled back, letting in the bright May sun. The only sound in the room, aside from Leslie's protests, were the blips and beeps of monitoring devices that were stationed on the near side of the bed. My eyes instantly found their way the reason for those bleeps as Bruce laid in bed, propped up by three pillows.

The last time I had seen him, he had been wrought with sheer terror upon waking from his seventy-two hour coma.

As I approached, he looked at me and simply moved his lips.

"Bruce…" I whispered, fighting the quivering in my lip by biting it.

He stared at me for a moment and then mimicked the behavior, slowly and deliberately.

For the first time in far too long, I felt a real smile on my face. Careful as to not bother him, I sat on the edge of the bed and admitted, "I know. Bad habit. You don't have to remind me."

He stopped chewing on his lip and stared up at me, blinking. His head twisted to find Leslie before he picked up his right hand and let it fall back down.

Even though I knew the answer, I asked the painful question, "Do you know who I am?"

He scrunched my eyes, blinked and then pushed his head back with a soft moan.

Leslie had stepped up behind me but made no further attempt to stop me.

"I'm Dick. Your... son."

He chewed on his lip again.

"Yeah, Dick."

He opened his mouth and mumbled, "Mmmm Duh-cuh."

"That's me… I'm going to get yelled at for being here but, I had to," I glanced back at Leslie to see her arms crossed over her chest, with one hand covering her mouth, eyes glassy. I looked back to Bruce and smiled again, "Then again, I'm always getting into trouble… learned it from you. Bruce."

He jerked his head to the right and then opened his mouth, "Uh.. Mm… Rooo... Sssss."

Not sure how he would react, I reached out and set my and on his left arm, "That's right, Bruce." I pointed to myself, "Dick." I then pointed to him, "Bruce."

When he looked away, blinking rapidly, I took his left hand and extended his pointer finger. Directing it to me, I repeated, "Dick." He glanced up at me when I turned the finger to point at himself, "Bruce."

After doing the same three times in a row, I pointed his hand to me and looked down at him. He took a deep breath, moaned and then said, "Duh-cuh."

My smile couldn't have been any bigger as I made him point to himself, "Right, now you."

"Duh-cuh."

"No," I pointed to myself, "Dick."

"Duh-cuh."

"Right, now you. Bruce."

"Rooo-sss." Upon seeing the looks on our faces, Bruce smirked, nodded slightly and then crossed his right arm over his stomach.

"Right," I laughed softly before letting go of his hand, "On your own, now."

His hand fell limply to the bed. Before I reached out again, he fought to pick it up, although he was unable to point, he aimed his hand at me and mumbled, "Duh-cuh." Letting the hand drop, he pushed his head back and finished, "Rooo-sss."

I felt Leslie's hand settle on my shoulder before I replied, "See. Now you know who I am."

^V^

When Alfred had come down to the cave just after seven in the evening, I expected him to yell at Dick for barging in into Bruce's room that morning.

While we had been warming up on the training bay, he had caught me up on what had happened while I had been sleeping through classes all day. My calculus teacher had even taken me aside, asking if I was all right given that I was never one to slack in his class. I lied, of course, and told him I had stayed up all night working on my US History report on Wounded Knee. After skirting out of school, I had raced to Wayne Manor on my bike, worried that Dick hadn't so much as texted me throughout the day.

I had been surprised to find him in the kitchen with Alfred, eating what appeared to be a spicy, vegetable an chicken sauce over penne. Lunch for me had consisted of a hand sandwich, two Snickers bars and a half liter of water. As always, Alfred stepped in to save the day, offering me a fairly good portion of the dish. Dick had patted the stool next to him, "Hop on up."

Once Alfred had tidied things to his satisfaction, he excused himself. It was then Dick had wiped his mouth, "So… I talked to him."

I had almost replied with a mouthful but knew Alfred would race back into he room if I had, "Who, Gordon?"

"No… Bruce."

Dropping my fork, on the counter, I ahd looked to him, "What… I mean, how?"

Dick kept his eyes straight ahead, "Alfred had stepped out of the room this morning, and I made a dash for it. Leslie tried to stop me but… It was so surreal, seeing him… just stare up at me without any idea who I was."

Taking a moment, I had asked, "You said you talked to him… how?"

"I… Itwas funny, some of it he seemed to understand… Leslie says that she and Alfred have been talking to him as if everything was normal…" he picked up his fork and waited to resume eating until I had as well, "She seems to think that his comprehension is far better than she had anticipated, he's just having a hard time putting it to use, to communicate. When I was first with him, I got it through to him what my name was as well as his."

"Whoa… How long were you with him, alld ay?"

He had shaken his head, "No… he slept most of the day, but any time he woke up, Alfred let me back in… after promising not to get him all riled up."

"Riled up?"

"I made him laugh… but since his chest hurts still it upset him… but still, seeing him laugh… Damn, Tim, I don't think there are words to describe it."

Scary, I had kept to myself.

After cleaning up our dishes, Dick had lead the way upstairs, hoping for me to get a chance to see him before we started down to the Cave. Unfortunately, Bruce was sleeping, but Leslie and Alfred gave in to the pleads and pouts of Robin former and current. As quietly as possible, we crossed the room and walke to the other side of the bed where Bruce had been laying.

Given that I hadn't seen him since he first opened his eyes, he appeared to be much better with a clean jaw line and a far more natural look to his face. Something about people being comatose took a little bit of the life from them, leaving their faces far too still and far too pale. After a few minutes, Dick had set a hand on my shoulder before whispering into my ear, "He'll be up by the time we get back… we better get going."

Nodding, I had looked once more to Bruce's face before returning to the corridor.

As we sparred and got in a pretty good workout, I kept thinking back to how my father had been changed by his near-death experience. Having been nearly killed in Haiti, he had returned to Gotham without his active and adventurous spirit. Even after he had regained the use of his legs with physical therapy, he was never quite the same man he had once been. Given what Bruce was facing, I wondering how different he would become.

Alfred clearing his throat had not only stopped our ruthless attempt at pinning one another on the mats, but had brought my morbid thinking to a halt.

"Master Dick? A word, if you please."

Releasing the hold he had on my neck and left arm, Dick sighed, "Uh oh… here it comes."

After grabbing a towel to wipe my face with, I followed him to the edge of the mats where Alfred was standing. He looked over the both of us, his face showing each sleepless hour had been enduring over the last few days under the flourescent lights.

"sir… I must aska considerable favor of you."

Dick sighed, "I know, and I'm sorry, Al… but I ahd to see him, I ahd to---."

"On the contrary, Master Dick… I am most grateful to see you determination has proved worthwhile…. Master Bruce seemed very delighted to spend time with you today. However, this favor is to inform someone of…Master Bruce's alleged condition…"

"That he's dead?" I asked.

"Quite." Alfred's disapproval of Dick's white lie washed over his face suddenly, "Seeing how you have been quite busy over the last few months, you may not be aware that Master Bruce has been involved in a rather serious relationship. I will leave it up to you as to whether you tell her the truth or not… but I would think very carefully before deciding. I have… been able to postpone this matter as long as I possible, however, her inquiries have become quite threatening."

Dick looked to me as if to ask who Bruce had been seeing. I shook my head, "Seriously, you don't know?"

"Who?"

"Selina," I smirked.

"What? I thought they were just… you know."

"Master Richard," Alfred warned, "That is highly inappropriate."

"I'm sorry, I figured after he told her the truth she would have dumped him."

Alfred's sighed woefully, "At any rate, the matter needs to be breeched with her. Tonight."

Watching Alfred return to the stairs, Dick grumbled, "You're coming with me."

"Why?"

"Backup."

We silently suited up for the night before heading into the city in the Mobile. Batman had contacted Oracle and learned that Batgirl was already in Chelsea knocking skulls. I would have done anything to be there with her in the shady borough rather then on a suicide mission…

Batman dropped the growl momentarily before informing her computerized image, "Alfred's sending me to Selina's."

Barbara's face softened, "She's been calling me… I… I haven't told her anything aside from the fact that he was shot."

He nodded curtly, and I half expected him to ask her advice on what to tell Selina. Instead, the growl surfaced once more and he closed with, "Get me a list of those hideouts for the Aces High syndicate… we'll work on that afterwards."

Pulling into an alley three blocks from Selina's penthouse, I felt my heart rate begin to rise. I wasn't sure what I was more worried about, what Batman was going to tell her or what her reaction was going to be. Needless to say, I saw stitches in my near future.

Ascending to the rooftop of one of the neighboring buildings, we jumped across to hers, dropping down on a wrought iron terrace. She had a beautiful ivy plant that cascaded down the outside of her penthouse to the floor of the terrace. I made a note that it would be a good hiding spot if things got hairy.

With the French doors open, we passed through silently amidst silk drapes floating in the high rise breeze. Music played somewhere in the residence and after scanning the open living room, I found a Bose player on top of a waist high book shelf.

Although I had first known her only Catwoman, in the last few months she had become Selina to me. She liked caramel flavored coffee and wouldn't wait for it to cool before drinking it. She seemed to only wear sneakers, stillettos and Bruce's loafers. She was a human, with a contagious laugh and short temper. In the last few days, I had wondered why she hadn't been brought into the equation but then rationalized that we had no idea what the equation was.

She appeared through the open archway leading into what appeared to be a dining room, bare feet thudding on dark, hardwood floors. She was dressed casually, calf length sweat pants and a fitted green WWF tee shirt. As she walked over, she had her head buried in a towel, vigorously rubbing her long, dark hair.

Although muffled, I heard her say, "You know, it's one thing to ignore my calls, cancel dinner on Saturday… it's an entirely different matter to do so with rumors racing around about you getting your thick skull blown off." I cringed at her words as she paused not ten feet away, bending over at the waist to shake her hair out, giving it one last tussle, "If you think you're getting any love tonight, you better think again, because I'm not---."

When she stood upright, the sexy smirk on her fac quickly vanished and in its place was a gaped mouth and look of utter shock.

She inhaled quickly before demanding, "What are you doing in… where is he?"

"Selina," Batman stepped forward. No, not Batman, Dick. His voice was soft and filled with regret.

He wouldn't… He couldn't tell her he was---.

"Where is he?" she growled, fists clenching around the damp towel.

"I'm sorry… He… The… the rumors are true. He took three bullets from Pasqualle," he stepped forward again, reaching out to her.

"Don't you dare touch me… Where the hell is he?" her green eyes were always bright but they were growing practically luminescent with emotion.

Dick hesitated before pulling back the cowl, showing the same emotion in his own blue eyes, "Selina, he's gone."

I expected her to attack us in sheer rage or to accuse of lying to her, wanting to see for herself that he was gone. Seeing tears silently slip over her cheeks, I realized she was a stronger person than that.

Dick continued to explain that we had no contingency for how to explain Bruce Wayne's disappearance but that we all needed to work together in order to protect his identity. As his girlfriend, Selina had a role herself to play and he asked if she would be up to the task.

She shook her head before wiping her face with the back of her hand, "No… I… I need some time…"

"Of course," Dick nodded, "If you need anything---."

"What call?" she snapped, trying to redirect her emotional energy offensively.

"Selina," he defended, "This is difficult for all of us… We have to work together---."

"I'm not sure you got the memo, boy… I don't need to do anything with anyone for any reason," the tears came pouring suddenly and she spun around, "Get the hell out of here."

Dick pulled the cowl back on and nodded to me before retreating to the terrace. I had held my ground, looking at him in disgust before walking over, preparing my grapple gun.

"What?" he demanded.

Thinking of the weekend before when I had walked in on Bruce and Selina sharing breakfast in the nook, both smiling brilliantly, I snapped back, "You could have told her the truth."

"We have to keep it within the Family, Robin," he growled at me, taking me by the arm.

I shrugged him off before leaping from the railing, "Ever stop to think she is part fo the Family?"

^V^


	6. Time Will Tell: V

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: this chapter has been revised to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

As I pulled up the drive to Wayne Manor on the first of June, I smiled to see Leslie sitting with Bruce in the expansive side lawn beneath the gigantic willow tree. Driving by, I waved and honked my horn, my smile grew to see Bruce wave back.

Simple enough of a task but mere weeks ago, I had thought it would have been impossible.

After parking in front of the garage, I put my service weapon in the glove compartment and locked the car up. I had been working with vice on some undercover work so thankfully I was already wearing a pair of worn jeans and a fitted gray shirt. Jogging back over to them, I noticed that they were sitting on large red picnic blanket, the scene completed with a picnic basket and a plastic pitcher of lemonade.

In less than three weeks, he had regained an impressive number of skills considering he had started with nothing. The first week after he had come out of the coma, I had spent every day with him, doing what I could to help Leslie and Alfred. Although Leslie and I had to regrettably return to work, I spent every minute I wasn't in Bludhaven or on a Gotham rooftop with him. Leslie came every other day, giving us new activities for Bruce to work on. Although not a rehabilitation specialist herself, she had a number of close associates that were peripherally guiding us, remaining out of the loop as to who the patient was.

Where he was jumping milestones mentally and even verbally, his body had yet to catch up. He still suffered from sluggish reaction times, limb weakness and problems controlling his fine motor skills. Given that the brain damage had taken place in the left lobe, his coordination on his right side lagged behind that of his left. As difficult as it was to watch him struggle with such menial tasks, Leslie kept assuring us that he had lots of ground to cover and that we shouldn't expect him to reach such milestones quite yet.

And even though the Bruce we once knew was gone, there were occasional glimpses into his past. His stubbornness when he didn't want help, the little lip twitch of a smirk and even the penchant he had for ignoring Alfred when he was being pushy. Most likely they were simple coincidences but it still made things seem a little bit brighter.

"Look who's here, Bruce," Leslie said as she pointed at me.

He lifted his eyes to me and a smile fell upon his lips. He loved to smile.

After kissing Leslie's cheek, I knelt beside Bruce, patting his shoulder, "Hey, she working you too hard?"

"No. Just… shapes," he looked at the brightly colored wooden shapes that laid on the blanket. Only three weeks after his mind was erased, he was in kindergarten.

I picked up an orange circle, "Let's see how you are with a pop-quiz."

He frowned in deep thought, then said, "Cir-cle."

"Very good," Leslie commented before she asked, "And the color?"

He showed no sign of hesitation, "Or-ange."

I nodded and returned the block to the blanket. "How much longer do you need him for?"

"A few more minutes. Why?"

I replied, "I have a bit of a surprise for him… for dinner… Figured he needed to get washed up and changed."

"Oh?"

"You're more then welcome to stay and see for yourself."

Shaking her head, Leslie explained, "I only could wrangle a few hours away from the clinic, I have to be back in an hour."

"Suh-prise?"

Bruce looked back and forth between us, intrigued. Although he was fairly good at comprehending what was being said around him, he still needed to focus in order to join the conversation.

I nodded at him, "That's right… Only after you're done with Leslie."

Bruce looked to her, smiling until she smirked and agreed, "All right… One more block and he's all yours." She selected a blue rectangle, "What is the color and shape?"

Bruce's brow contorted and then looked at me, "Purple. Square."

Shaking her head, Leslie replied, "Nope, try again."

"Green."

"No, that was the star," she picked up the green block and showed him it next to the rectangle, "See, it's different, they aren't the same. The star has points, this one doesn't."

Bruce started breathing heavier, his eyes shifting between Leslie and I. After looking down at the shape, he asked "I--- Differ-ent? Square?"

I butted in, "See, this is the square," I picked up the block, "This isn't the same as the one Leslie has. Hers is longer. So it's not a square."

I gave him both of the blocks for him to look at. The square in his right hand almost fell but I caught it for him, putting it back into his hand before helping him grip it. He looked down at both of the shapes and remained silent.

"Bruce," Leslie asked, "What's the color?"

"It... Green?"

"You're close. But we already did green."

He looked at the green star. He nodded at each shape, mouthing words of color and shape. Whenever he was flustered over something he didn't understand, he seemed to either work himself into a fret or simply shut down. Thankfully, he had gone the later route before replying, "Blue reck-angle."

"Blue rectangle, very good," Leslie took the shapes from him, "Great job. Now, you can go with Dick."

As she began to pick up the remaining blocks laid out on the blanket, Bruce repeated, "Blue rec-tangle."

I replied, "Yep, you got it right."

"Blue... Flower?"

"Where? Where did you see a blue flower?" I asked, trying to induce conversation.

"Ta-ble. Fell-ed over..."

"Here at the house?" I asked Leslie.

She shook her head, "Not that I know of. Where was the table, Bruce?"

"Fell-ed over. Wal-ked on... Blue flower." He looked up at us with hope that we understood him, "Fell-ed over… man."

Occasionally, he would ramble what appeared to be meaningless words. Leslie surmised that he was having some memory sparks in the back of his mind that initiated the speech. It actually was a hopeful sign that he has retained his memories in suspended animation and that they simply needed to be brought back to life.

"Hunh.. Have to ask Alfred about hat one," I paused, "Why don't we get you inside out of the sun for a bit, then we can get ready for the surprise."

He nodded to himself and mumbled once more, "Blue."

I brought over Bruce's wheelchair and then braked the wheels. He was doing well with physical activity and rehabilitation, working in the pool every morning with me and then in the afternoon in the gym with either myself, Alfred or Leslie. The weight training regimen he was used to had been cut by more than half so that he could focus on the task rather than the effort. The imbalance he suffered had made walking on his own difficult. Using parallel walking bars, he did very well but when relying on a walker he fumbled.

Letting him grip the chair, I helped him in, being sure he was making an effort to push with his legs. Once he was situated, I helped Leslie fold the blanket, setting it on the picnic basket before handing it to Bruce, "Think you can carry that it in?"

"Yeah."

Leslie followed us in, excusing herself to wash up, leaving us alone in the kitchen. Dinner was to be a fairly big ordeal judging from the guest list and the ingredients Alfred had organized about the kitchen counters.

"Suh-prise?"

"Not yet… The wait will be worth it. Trust me, Bruce."

"Okay."

^V^

After coming inside, Dick helped me to the den where Tim was watching TV. When we entered the room, he looked up, "Barbara called."

I smiled, Barbara was nice, she came up almost every day, spending it with me.

Everyone was nice. Always helping me.

"Say, Bruce, why don't you hang out in here, I'll go call Barbara back."

"Okay," I said, looking at him and then to the TV.

"Nothing good on," Tim smirked as he picked up the remote. I put my hands on the wheels and pushed forward so I was closer to him. "Want help?" he asked.

"I'm.. okay."

"You got it," he smirked. He had a book in his lap and a pen and notebook next to him on the couch. I had lots of books and markers and paper in the study. I could write six letters of the alphabet… but I could say them all, well most of them.

"Homework?"

Tim sighed, "Yeah, physics."

"Fizz… iss."

He repeated it for me, "Physics. About how fast or slow things go, how far… hot and cold and up and down."

I nodded but didn't understand why he needed to read about things being hot and cold.

Dick returned, putting a hand on my shoulder before saying, "Barbara will be here in a half hour… I'm going to take him upstairs, can you help Alfred out."

"I already tried, he kicked me out."

"Well, maybe he'll change his mind when he hears they are on the way…" Dick leaned over so I could see him, "We better get you washed up."

"Dir-ty?" I asked. My clothes weren't that bad.

"It's a special dinner, Bruce, you have to dress up a bit."

"Suh-prise?"

"I can't tell you what it is," he took the handles of the wheel chair and turned me around before pushing me into the hall, "Then it won't be a surprise."

I smiled, "Okay."

We took the elevator up to my bedroom, he let me press the button. I could use the elevator myself but I couldn't get out of it fast enough before the doors closed.

Once in my room, he helped me sit on the bed before he disappeared into my closet,

"Well, what do you want to wear?"

"Pa-jam-as."

"No, it's not bed time yet. How about blue... And a tie... And black slacks," he emerged with an arm full of clothes, holding them up so they looked they were on an real person, "Tres sexy, monsieur."

I curled my brow and he grinned at me, "We'll have that talk someday."

As I started to remove my tee shirt, Dick donned one of the shirts he had found in the closet. It was a bit big for him but he said we had to dress up and he only had a tee-shirt. Dick then went into the bathroom and found a washcloth and a brush while I started to pull off my shirt. Since my one arm was still weak, I got the job about half done before calling out his name.

"Almost..." he sighed as he came over to help me.

He finished pulling it off for me and walked away to throw it in the hamper.

It was then I looked down at my chest, searching for scars. I did it every time I changed or when Dick had me in the pool. Since I couldn't remember, I made up stories as to how I got them.

"What is it Bruce?" Dick asked as he began to untie my sneakers.

"Holes."

"They were, but now they are all better."

I touched one that was redder than the others, just under my last rib, "How… holes?"

"How you got them?" After I nodded, he continued, "Long story. Maybe tomorrow."

"Lots of stor-ies."

"Yeah, we'll get to them. All right, lay back so I can get this grass- stained mess off of you."

I reclined slowly and watched as Dick removed my jeans. He then put my feet into the clean slacks and pulled them up to my knees, "Lean forward, you can stand for this."

I did and then supported myself by keeping my hands on his shoulders as I stood. He pulled them the rest of the way up, zipped them before helping me sit back down, "I forgot a belt."

I didn't like belts. But since I had lost weight after the accident, I needed to wear one almost every day. Alfred said he would fatten me back up.

While I sat, Dick looped the belt around me but didn't buckle it. He then grabbed the little white shirt on the bed. He rolled it up before saying, "Arms out."

I sat there, my eyes transfixed on the window. A car was pulling up and I pointed to it. Dick followed my gaze, "She must have sped… We better hurry, come on, arms out."

I complied and watched as he slipped the shirt through my arms and pulled it down over my head. Before putting on the long sleeved shirt, he took the wash cloth, wiping my face and hands. He finally put the last shirt on, tucking it in before clasping the belt.

Lots of clothes. Must have been a big surprise.

Whilr he ran a brush over my hair, he asked, "Tie or no tie?"

My stomach growled and I answered, "Hun-gry."

^V^

That morning, I had barged into Barbara Gordon's apartment in the Clocktower, my life spinning out of control.

With three little words, she had put it back on its axis: Selina, he's alive.

The day after Dick had appeared on my terrace wearing the Batsuit, I packed my bags, booked a flight to Rome and got the hell out of Gotham. I had wanted no part in pretending Bruce was alive when he wasn't. I had wanted nothing to do with the city if he was no longer in it.

The first three days in Italy, I had balanced my time between crying, breaking things and thinking of returning to my former life as a world-class thief.

But with no one to come after me…

The last few months with Bruce had nearly made me forget that I had essentially given up my criminal career for intermittent vigilantism. I had told myself that it had been the thrill of the fight that had lured me but deep down I had wondered if Batman had hypnotized me, drawing me to his side of breaking the law. When I accused him of as much, he had smirked, "If that was feasible, Arkham would be empty."

"And you'd be bored to tears."

"Precisely," he had replied before kissing me…

We had finally figured things out between us, finding a balance between chaos and normalcy. Whenever we went through more than a bottle of wine, our casual conversations turned serious and he had been quick to divert it back to safe waters. I had no intentions of marrying him, and vice versa. We weren't a normal couple, so there had been no reason to act like one.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

In the midst of my extravagant pity party for one, I had taken ill. Despite my fit form, my back ached when I had finally forced myself to go out and tour the streets. Headaches came from no where as I dodged early summer tourists. And then vicious stomach cramps and nausea had finally forced me to seek medical attention.

The results had me flying back to Gotham on the first ticket available.

Arriving a little after six that morning, riddled with jet lag and worry, I bypassed my penthouse and went directly to the Clocktower. I had become friends of sorts with Barbara over the last few months but hadn't said a word to her since I had found out Bruce had died. Pounding on her door at six-thirty on the morning of June first, she should have whipped open the door and told me to eat kitty litter.

Instead, she had invited me in, concern washing over her tired face.

Although she had lead me into the den, I had no intention of sitting, after all, it would have been difficult to deliver earth shattering news while reclining.

A little more than twelve hours later, I sat in an overstuffed leather chair in the informal den of Wayne Manor, just as if the last three weeks hadn't even happened. As if Bruce hadn't been shot, that Dick hadn't lied to me, that I wasn't seven weeks pregnant…

Upon telling Barbara that morning, I had explained, "I'm the least maternal person in the world… but.. I can't… if this is the only link I have left to him… I don't have a choice… but, I can't do this alone.. I can't…"

Insert Barbara's tearful confession, "Selina, he's alive."

She had spent the next hour catching me up on the truth they had been keeping from everyone. Their public cover was that Bruce Wayne had gone salivating around the world, looking for purpose in his life. His yacht, being manned by a well paid off boat captain and look alike Bruce, was last seen in Maui. I could have cared less about the doings of the faux Bruce Wayne, but rather of the real one.

"Well, it's about time," Tim's voice brought me back from my reverie.

I looked up to see Dick standing in the doorway, wearing a smile along with jeans and a slate blue long sleeved shirt. He found me and nodded curtly before announcing, "Bruce wanted to make his own grand entrance, stubborn old man--ow!" Dick stepped forward and I spotted the edge of a wheelchair that had caught him just under his calves, "We should make you get a license to drive that thing."

He moved out of the doorway and a moment later the entire wheelchair entered the room. Bruce smirked up at Dick and then proceeded to push the wheels in order to approach the rest of us. He was dressed for the occasion, although is frame had thinned, making the tailored clothing hang loose. Barbara had said that physically he was in perfect health but my eyes had a hard time leaving the small round scar on his forehead.

Tim rose to check on Alfred in the kitchen, leaving Cassandra sitting on the couch with Barbara. Rather than take a seat, Dick approached me and when I got to my feet, he offered another nod and a hand on my elbow, "Good to see you."

After I had settled down at the Clocktower that morning, I had caught him up to date with the latest Family development. He had been speechless, as was expected, but when he did find his voice, he had apologized for lying to me.

"You too."

Guiding me over, Dick knelt before Bruce, "Hey… you remember the surprise?"

Watched as Bruce nodded slightly, smirking before echoing, "Suh-prise." He looked from Dick to me, the smirk fading.

"This is your surprise."

I knelt directly in front of Bruce, not surprised when his eyes never left my face. "Hi, Bruce. I'm Selina. I used to be..."

"Green eyes," he whispered.

I smiled brightly, his voice cutting into me like a knife. "Yes, I have green eyes."

He paused then said, "Green... Ov-als."

"He's learning his shapes and colors this week, Selina, forgive him," Dick said suddenly.

"It's okay. What color are your eyes?" I pointed to him.

He blinked and said softly, "Blue."

I nodded.

"You. Icy."

"No, I'm not cold… are you?"

Shaking his head, he repeated himself, "Icy. Meow."

That stole my breath away. As well as everyone else's.

"Icy… Meow."

I looked up as Dick rose to his feet, "Does he mean…" I redirected my gaze to Bruce, "Do you mean Isis?"

He smirked before saying, "Meow."

As Dick swore under his breath, I asked, "Did you tell him about me?"

"No, how could he…" Dick stumbled over his words, "He has what Leslie thinks are memory flashes, something comes to mind and he just says it."

Bruce reached out with his left hand and touched my face, "Icy me-ow."

I had expected to attend dinner at Wayne Manor, to see Bruce's body devoid of his mind.

Seeing him with a smirk on his face, his eyes bright with life and his warm fingers on my cheek… it was hard to believe that he wasn't in there.

^V^

Seeing how painful it was for me to watch Selina talking with Bruce, I could have only imagined what it was like for her.

The last time I had seen them together had been on accident.

I had taken Dad out for dinner in Midtown a little over a month ago for no reason other than just to spend time with him. Although we often shared brunches and lunches, it had been a rare treat to spend the night out on the town. Dropping his name, I had been able to reserve a table at George's, one of the premiere restaurants in Gotham where entrees started at over forty dollars. Thankfully the prices weren't listed on the menus or else Dad would have jumped from his seat and left in search of a diner.

On our way out, I had heard a familiar laugh amidst the crowded tables. Glancing back, I smiled to see Bruce and Selina were at one of the more secluded tables on the elevated floor. She was wearing a gorgeous dress, a purples halter coming from around the back of her neck and then looping down to a low, loose neckline. She had been leaning over, whispering something into Bruce's ear. As my father had stopped to wait for me, I had smiled to see him lean in to kiss her cheek while she bite his ear.

When they had first gotten together, Dick had called it a groovy kind of love.

Immature, he had been spot on.

"Shall we?" Dick asked. When I looked up at him in confusion, he continued, "Dinner hath been served."

Once we were in the dining room, I waited until Dick had set Bruce up at the head of the table before taking a place next to him. Where Bruce remained in his wheel char, I opted to move out of mine and into the dining room chair. Dick left to take his seat next to me and I reached over to help Bruce put a napkin on his lap. He was doing okay with feeding himself as long as he was able to scoop it with a spoon.

Light years from where he had been we it had all started.

"Do anything fun today?" I asked him. It had been the first day I hadn't spent with him since he had first been shot.

Bruce shrugged his left shoulder as he lifted a hand to touch the water glass.

"Thirsty?"

He nodded, "No… straw."

Dick had overheard him and said, "Knew I forgot something, hang on a second, Bruce."

While we waited, I encouraged him to answer my initial question, doing my best not to meet Selina's sad gaze as she watched from across the table.

"Picnic…" he finally answered, "Leslie… for picnic."

"Good day for it… looks like you got some sun," I touched his slightly reddened cheek, "I don't think I was outside for more than ten minutes today."

Bruce then replied, "Come for picnic."

Nodding, I accepted, "Sure… I would love to. Can Selina come?"

Bruce finally looked away from his water and smiled at Selina, "Yes. Picnic. Green."

Dick returned and dropped a white straw into the water glass before raising it up to Bruce's face. When Bruce tried to take the glass away, Dick said, "No, just take a sip."

"No… want hold."

"Bruce, come on…" Dick pushed interfering left hand away, "Just a quick sip, when you drink it down more then you can hold it."

"Hold…" Bruce tried once more. After getting shut down, he dropped his hand and looked at his lap, "No."

It was then I realized he was trying to show off, that he could hold his own glass. "Dick, just help him hold it," I interjected, "Bruce just let Dick help you hold it."

His eyes focused on his water glass, acting as if he hadn't heard me. When Dick went to take Bruce's left hand, he jerked it away, shaking his head, "Not… thir-tee."

As the music of dinnerware clanged and chimed, I kept my eye on Bruce, ready to help if needed. Where we had twice backed potatoes, asparagus in olive oil and lamb chops, Bruce had mashed potatoes, pureed vegetables and lamb. Midway through dinner, Bruce dropped his napkin and after Selina had retrieved it and replaced it for him, Bruce had thanked her softly as a blush crept over him,

No matter how much he had changed his affection for her seemed to have surpassed biological laws. When he had been talking with her in the den saying words that were not random mutterings but specific memories, dancing just out of his reach. If simply seeing the face of a person had brought that much out of him, I could only wonder what the weeks and months to come would bring.

With dinner coming to a close, conversation rose once more, drifting to the "third shift". When Bruce had started picking up vocabulary, we had all agreed that we would not speak of our alter egos by name in front of him. Bruce was generally tired by the time dinner came around and found it difficult to keep up with the conversation. Given that he had barely uttered more than a dozen words through dinner, I surmised that he was ready for bed,

While Tim and Dick debated between whether or not a nameless foe was hiding in Chelsea, I barely heard Bruce say quietly, "Flash-light."

"What, Bruce?" Dick asked, looking over at him.

Bruce's good arm slowly rose and pointed to the window, pointing out what "flashlight" meant.

The Batsignal.

"Dick, the big flashlight," I said and nodded to the window.

He glanced over his shoulder and jerked slightly at the searing white light. Dick stood and wiped his mouth, "Well, I better get some paperwork done tonight."

Cassandra stood silently but Tim rose while saying, "Yeah, I've got quite a bit of homework still... Lots to do."

Bruce kept staring at the sky, his face lost in confusion. When he looked back to see that everyone had left save for myself and Selina, he started breathing heavily, straining his neck to search the room After stealing the croissant from Dick's plate, I tapped Bruce's shoulder, "Here, last one."

He shook his head and returned his gaze to the sky.

Setting the baked good on his plate anyway, my eyes rose to find Selina staring at him, her eyes welling with tears. She was the strongest woman I had ever met, the only raw emotion I had seen her express had been rage and sheer joy. For the second time in twelve hours, I was seeing her cry.

When I said her name, she shook her head, wiping her eyes dry with the corner of her napkin, "It's okay… it's… so surreal…"

Before I could reply, Bruce unlocked the wheelchair and pushed himself away, slowly turning around and heading for the door.

"Bruce?"

He paused, looking down at his lap before saying, "Work... Home... Lots do."

"What do you have to do, you want help?" I offered.

Bruce finally looked up, smiling at Selina before adding, "No… Hold… Suh-prise."

When we were alone, Selina feigned composure after taking a deep breath, "Do you think... He's still in there?"

"Judging by tonight… I wouldn't doubt it… I should have told you about the memory flashes, I don't know why I didn't---," I began apologizing but she held her hand up.

Selina shook her head, "No… it's okay… like he said, it was a surprise… for both of us."

^V^


	7. Time Will Tell: VI

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends. Done in a rotating Point Of View style.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been modified to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

"Can you see the fireworks from up here?" Bruce asked suddenly.

Through a miraculous twist of fate, I had managed to get the fourth of July off in order to spend it with Bruce. After a hearty lunch of Cobb salad pitas, we had gone outside to sit on the terrace to read. The baking sun, chirping of merry birds and sheer exhaustion had left me dozing off while laying in a chaise. In the last two weeks, I had only been up to the Manor every other day, my hectic lifestyle over the last few months starting to creep into my time with Bruce. Thankfully, where I had been lagging, Barbara and Selina had stepped up.

I had been Batman for barely a season. How the hell Bruce had ever managed to balance both his lives for so many years was beyond me.

While I had been sleeping, Bruce had walked off of the terrace and taken a seat in the grass, book in hand. As I opened my eyes at his question, it had taken a minute to find him. Regaining his basic life skills, he had started to vie for independence, something neither Alfred nor myself were ready to grant him.

He was walking. Reading. Dressing himself… he was a six foot tall third grader.

After yawning and wiping my face of accumulated sweat, I replied, "Sure. You want to watch them?"

He pondered for a moment as he looked to the bright blue sky, "Yeah. Barbara said they were great in the city... But you could see them even better from up here."

Sitting up, I thought back to countless Independence Days at Wayne Manor, the best ones had included sitting out on the rooftop with Bruce and watching Gotham come alive with color.

"Yeah, there's a great view from the top of the house…"

"The roof?"

I nodded, getting to my feet before crossing the stone floor and joining him in the grass, "But I think Alfred wanted to set up some chairs on the front terrace… little bit safer than the roof."

"Yeah," Bruce smirked before opening and closing the hard cover book in his hands. I had been reading The BFG by Roald Dahl with him off and on throughout the day but when we had gone outside, he said he wanted to try to read by himself.

At first, it had been difficult to be with him, given how much he had changed. The body was the same, tall, broad and strong, but his entire demeanor had been altered. After weeks had passed, we all had grown accustomed to seeing a smile on his face or seeing him curled up on the couch watching a movie. He wasn't that man who raised or trained me. He was a new person. And as much as I hated to admit it, I almost liked him better this way.

Almost.

"Dick?" he asked as he reclined back onto the grass.

"Yes, Bruce?"

He paused and suddenly sat up, a feat that was near impossible a month ago, "Do you think, maybe, Selina can come up?"

I had erred in telling Selina that Bruce had died, and anytime I saw her with Bruce I was reminded of it. Since she had been told the truth, she had been nothing but a wealth of support and love for him, not much different from before he had been shot. She had taken a big interest in not only his mental occupational rehabilitation but his physical as well. His first steps had been under her watch, when he had gotten up to get her a blanket while they watched a movie in the den.

Selina had said it was the most romantic thing he had ever done for her.

Aside from siring her child.

It was still a challenge to comprehend that Bruce and Selina had separated just as their relationship was taking a major turn. As curious as I was to know what would have happened had Bruce not been gunned down, I knew that asking her and her fluctuating hormones would have been lethal. Knowing Bruce, he would have done the right thing, helped her raise the child to whatever extent Selina wanted.

At three months pregnant, Bruce realistically had six months to get back to a reasonable adult level of mind in order to welcome his son or daughter to the world. Leslie and Alfred had decided, along with Selina, that it was best not to tell him yet seeing how he was still unable to comprehend that complicated of a situation. That and I knew that neither one of us were ready to talk about where babies came from…

Seeing him smile, face red from sitting out in the sun, I was thankful that he was enjoying himself. The last two weeks had been upsetting for him, his sleep plagued with confusing dreams and nightmares, rooted in memories he didn't know.

The dreams had started when he finally got his answer about who his parents had been.

Being able to follow movies, television and stories, Bruce had come to realize that every person had a mother and a father. One night, while Alfred had tucked him in, Bruce had asked if Alfred was his father. Upon getting the vague explanation that Alfred had helped raise Bruce but was in fact not his father, Bruce had been disheartened. The next day, Alfred, Leslie and I had carefully explained the minimal details regarding his parents.

Thankfully, he hadn't cried or yelled, but had just absorbed all of the sadness within him and nodded. One of his traits that he hadn't lost.

I sat up and glanced at my watch, twelve to three, "Well, you ready to go in?"

He looked at me with his brow furrowed, "I haven't read my book yet."

I sighed and stood, "You have all night. The fireworks won't start until after dusk anyway."

Bruce nodded and rose as well, holding his book tightly to his thigh with his good arm.

I folded the blanket and then lead the way into the house in silence. I let him go first into the service entrance of the kitchen and shut the door behind us. A small silver pot steamed on the stove and I could smell melting chocolate.

Of course, I smiled, Fourth of July. Alfred's brownies. I suddenly thought back once more to those hot July evenings, watching the lights explode in the sky with a plate full of warm brownies and a tall glass of root beer, one scoop of vanilla ice cream for each. Nights where Bruce was unable to join the festivities, I had to settle for sitting on the terrace with Alfred.

Needles to say, I had spent more nights on the terrace as opposed to the roof.

Since I had yet to work-out and catch up on some investigatory reading on Gotham's newest drug ring, I had to spend the remainder of the afternoon in the Cave. Making sure Bruce was set up in the den with books, paper and pencils and a TV remote, I told him I had some errands to run.

"Can I come?"

"No... sorry, but… I'll call Selina to ask her up… and I know Barbara and Cass planned on dropping by, maybe Tim, too."

He nodded before sitting on the couch, still holding the book.

"And we'll get in another chapter when I get back, oaky?"

He reluctantly replied, "Okay."

I met with Alfred as I headed to the study, updating him on were Bruce was in the great house. He set a hand on my shoulder before saying, "Thank you, sir… Your time means the world to him."

Another change in him that I loved.

^V^

Wow.

It was unbelievable. All of the colors literally exploding from out of nowhere.

Red, gold, white and blue. Loud ones and quiet ones. A few that whistled and crackled. Big spheres and small stars.

It was great… Except Dick wasn't there.

While Alfred and I had sat on the terrace, Dick had yet to return from his errands, nor had he called to say where he was. Alfred suggested that he had been called away to work but would most likely do his best to be back before I went to bed. I hated it when he had to work, but it was his responsibility. Hopefully, I had never left him behind to work.

I don't think I could look at myself in the mirror if I had.

If that hadn't been enough, Barbara and Cassandra had stayed in the city, Tim was at a friend's house and Selina was ill. It was nice to be with Alfred but it was also nice to see everyone else.

"They should do them more often," I said as I stood from my chair.

Dick's voice suddenly replied, "They do. Wait until New Year's Eve. Not only do they have fireworks, they let you drink champagne and kiss people you don't know."

I glanced around to see him standing in the open doorway, suddenly wondering how long he had been standing there. I smiled a bit, "What about people you know?"

Alfred gasped and Dick laughed. I hadn't meant for it to be funny, but sometimes things came out and those around me laughed.

Dick stepped forward and selected a brownie from the serving tray, "Sorry I missed it… Managed to sneak away for a little bit but I do have to go back to work."

With one last look skyward, we all moved towards the house. I had to wash up and change for bed but seeing how Dick was there, I hoped that I was able to stay up for a bit longer. My hopes were crushed when instead of heading downstairs, Alfred had announced he was going to ready my bath. Looking to Dick, he nodded, "It's all right, I have tomorrow off too… maybe we can go for a ride on the golf cart."

As much fun as going around the property in the cart was, I wasn't ready for the night to be over. "I'm not tired," I stated.

Dick put a hand gently on my elbow, turning me to my room, "Come on, you get cleaned up and changed, then we can read that chapter."

I bathed in record time, not even washing my hair. Before last week, someone had always helped me wash but I was ready to do it by myself. I had even showered on my own a few times. Barely dry, I donned fresh pajamas and walked into my bedroom to find Dick sitting on the bed, his lower lip trembling.

"Dick?"

He wiped at his eyes and looked away before asking, "You brush your teeth?"

"No... I… You okay?"

He grinned up at me before pointing back to the bathroom, "I will be when your teeth are brushed."

We read two chapters, although he mostly read and only had me read aloud some of the shorter sentences. He promised to come home after work so that we would be able to have breakfast before spending the entire day together.

"No work, I promise."

As Dick left, Alfred stepped into the room carrying my medicine and water. After he handed me two blue pills, Aleve he called them, I took them with the glass of water in his other hand. After giving him the empty glass, he pulled the covers up over me while I asked, "Alfred, do you think Dick is… sad?"

"Sir?" he asked, looking confused.

"Sad… about me.. Like, he doesn't like how I am. Now."

"That he is embarrassed of you, sir?" he offered. When I nodded, he explained, "Certainly not. Master Dick is very proud of your accomplishments thus far, as we all are."

"So he likes me?"

"He loves you, sir."

I nodded and smiled, "I love him, too," I paused, "He's good… not a kid, but a big kid."

"That he is, sir. You raised him very well."

I sighed. Rarely did anyone talk about my past in front of me but I enjoyed it when they did since I wanted to learn more about myself. Like telling me something important as they had about my parents. I ached for them, after learning the truth but they had died so long ago… and I would never remember them.

Only in my dreams were they alive, but I wasn't even sure when my dreams were real or not.

Maybe my mind was just playing with me.

Tricking me.

Torturing me.

But there have been better things about who I used to be that they had told me. About Dick being my son, adopted, but still my son. About how Tim had grown up next door to me and Barbara was such a close friend of mine. Also, about how Alfred had raised me, so now he was like my father.

And perhaps most of all, how Selina and I were "very close friends."

She visited often and we played games or went for walks when it was nice in the evenings and if not, we watched movies together. Sometimes when she was watching the screen, I liked to watch her. Her smile. Her eyes.

Dick walked in on us once and laughed. Selina had thrown a pillow at him.

My savior.

^V^

"Dad, it's just me. Just calling to let you know that I'm going to be out and about until tomorrow afternoon or so. Maybe we can catch an early dinner? My treat. Anyway, call my cell phone if you need me. Love you, bye," the answering machine played Barbara's voice.

I had been feeding off of her energy, my own unusually sapped in the last two months. Then again, it wasn't unusual to mourn the loss of your best friend, I supposed.

If it hadn't been for Barbara I would have had my own cozy room in between the Riddler and Poison Ivy. It had been difficult, knowing the man I called forward at night was his replacement, even if it was his… son. I had hoped there would be a funeral of some sort, a private one at least, in order to pay my respects. Lord knew how many colleagues and acquaintances he had that never got to say good-bye.

But not a word had been mentioned about him after that horrible May night in my office.

In the two months since he had taken up the mantle, the city had once more fallen under his control, the rampage in the days following the Pasqualle incident diluted through sheer force.

Pressing delete on the answering machine, I sat on my sofa. Tenth of July, a Saturday. The message had been left when I had been out grabbing breakfast at the bakery down the block.

Maybe that Grayson boy had swept my innocent daughter off of her feet once more. Wouldn't have been the first time and deep down I sure hoped it wouldn't be the last.

For years that had been in and out of a relationship. Whenever I had seen them together, they had showed nothing but true love for one another. Despite his tragic past, Dick Grayson had managed to grow into a sensible, charismatic good-natured young man. And if it couldn't have gotten any better, he was a well-respected young officer on the Bludhaven police force. My status had allowed me to make unofficial inquiries into his efforts and I had hear nothing but stellar reports.

He had been raised by a good man, a man I hadn't seen all summer.

The last I had heard was he was still touring the globe in his yacht, a trek he had started in the beginning of June. Where Dick had all of his guardian's best traits, thankfully, he hadn't taken on the worst ones. I had a fairly good relationship with Wayne, but that was in spite of his womanizing, alcoholic and money flaunting ways. Sure, some of it was to maintain the standard and the public's perceptions of how a handsome billionaire was supposed to act but it didn't make it any easier to accept.

I stood suddenly, speaking aloud to no one, "Have to water her plants."

Grabbing my keys, I raced out to the car, happy to have something to do on my day off and, more specifically, anything to keep me from ending back at headquarters. Even though it was eight in the morning, traffic was heavy in Tri-Corner, making the three mile drive nearly twenty minutes. I cut off a woman in a mini-van for a parking spot right in front of the Clocktower.

In my older years, I had lost the ability to distinguish the importance of things. At home, I had a sink full of dishes, a shaggy lawn and a leaky showerhead.

But as God as my witness, I wasn't about to rest before making sure my Barbara's plants were adequately watered.

The elevator ride took two silent minutes, giving me ample time to prepare my keys for her apartment door. Barbara had three locks on the door and once it was opened you had fifteen seconds to enter a ten digit number on the security panel within. Typical for a single woman living in a very busy part of the city.

Typical for any person who had been gunned down by the Joker.

Her apartment was dark and silent but still yielded a warm, welcoming feel. After a quick tour of the open rooms, I found a glass in the kitchen and filled it with tepid water. With potted and hanging plants in the den, guest bathroom and her bedroom tended to, I found the second hand on my watch had barely made three complete rotations. The kitchen was spotless, garbage and recyclables already taken out, not even a single bit of dust on the hard wood floors. Washer and dryer were both empty as was the dishwasher…

Complete opposite of my humble abode.

"Hmmm…" I sighed to myself as I found myself with nothing to do or fret over.

Accepting defeat, I began making my way to the door, reaching the atrium just as the phone rang. Back tracking to the den, I nearly picked it up before realizing it wasn't my place to do so. She was an adult. I had to respect her privacy.

So I simply listened as the answering machine picked up in a non-descript computerized voice, "Please leave a message after the tone."

BEEP

I wasn't sure who I had expected to be calling her at that hour, but the voice that left the message stopped me in my tracks, "Barbara, it's just me… Must have missed you… Alfred has breakfast ready… and I convinced him to have it in the pool room… so should be fun… see you soon."

Could it be that my Barbara was no longer involved with the Grayson boy, but rather the man that had raised him? I had seen Barbara interact with Bruce socially a number of times and had seen no inclination of anything more than general amicability.

If she had left to spend the day with him, that meant he was done flaunting his wealth about the globe. Back in Gotham, back to his old ways…

I had a sudden urge to take my morning out of the city and into Bristol, my mind reaching back to when I had first visited Wayne Manor. My first wife, heavy with my firstborn son, had accompanied me to have a brief questioning with Bruce in his lavish estate. I would have rather had him taken into the station to work him over abut possibly being the Batman but my supervisors had forbid it.

He had been drunk, wearing only a loosely tied robe, and spent most of the interview fighting off the advances of a stunning young woman who he didn't even know the name of.

… I don't want to waste your time, Mr. Wayne…

… My time is worthless, Lieutenant, Just ask Alfred…

He had been right all those years ago… even today he wasn't worthy of my Barbara.

^V^

As I tended to my afternoon chores and duties, I listened as laughter faintly echoed the dark halls of the Manor.

Only in snatches of history had similar sounds been present. Master Bruce as a toddler and well into his early years, running about in his father's hat or hiding in the draperies of his mother's dressing room. As he had aged, his boldness had been insurmountable, taking his antics to the outdoors by climbing the ancient trees on the property, his mother always fretting about such behavior but his father would always laugh.

Then there had been no more laughter, no more joy… nothing.

Master Dick's childhood had brought a much needed lightness into the old house but the years had passed far too quickly before the young boy had become a young man. Master Jason's brief time with us had yielded far more shouts than laughs. After his passing, I had feared that Master Bruce would never find joy in life, condemning himself as a failure, with comparable self-hatred and punishment.

Thankfully, Master Bruce and the rest of us had been proven wrong by the inquisitive and self-assured boy next door. Master Timothy had brought a new life to the Manor, just before his mentor had to endure a number of life altering changes: Bane, the Plague, the Quake… enemies of different shapes and sizes. Despite the tragedies endured, their had been a noticeable change in Master Bruce, perhaps the very change that had led him to seek the company of Ms. Selina once more.

Although it had been many, many years since Master Bruce had uttered a laugh, he had seemed content in the joy of others.

Even in spite of the reason behind it, hearing his audible joy after such a long time had been shocking to others, but a pleasantry to my old ears.

The joy of a father's knowing his son was happy. A son, not by having my blood course his veins, but for having his blood stained upon my fingers more than I would have cared for.

"Al?"

I was taking inventory of the pantry, a weekly task performed every Saturday in order to prepare for Sunday morning shopping. Without looking up from my growing grocery list, I had acknowledge, "Yes, Master Dick?"

"Bruce is asleep in the den, I'm going to run downstairs for a bit."

A bit. A time appraisal I had heard hundreds of times before.

Although the gallant return of the Batman had brought a necessary level of order to the city's chaotic nightlife, his vigilantism was not without challenge. For the last two weeks they had endured no progress in their search for the self-proclaimed new ruler of the underworld, one Anton Bauer. He had absorbed the territory left behind by Henri Pasqualle, doubling his own drug trafficking reach. Although unlike Pasqualle, he had been able to cover his tracks, offering nothing to the police or caped crusaders.

Master Dick was growing restless on the lack of progress on his first major case as the Batman, forcing me to remind him incessantly that he would bring those that dare challenge him to justice.

"Very good, sir… and Ms. Barbara?"

"Also conked out. Guess neither one of them were in the Last Crusade mood…" When I finally turned to face him, I was pleased to see a smirk on his face, "I'll be back up for dinner, Al."

Alone, I completed my task, placing the list in my jacket pocket as it hung from the coat rack near the service entrance. It was still far too early to start dinner preparations, incidentally leaving me a moment to myself. After preparing myself a fresh cup of tea, I resigned to the kitchen nook that overlooked the side yard. Its level, perfectly manicured lawn had become a haven of sorts for Master Bruce, from reading outdoors to staring up at starlit skies.

"Alfred?" a soft voice asked. I looked towards the doorway to see Ms. Barbara smiling, a faint fog of slumber still in her eyes. She made her way to table and continued, "He's moving along so quickly."

I nodded, "Indeed he is. When he is in the library, hunched over his books at the desk... It is rather difficult to see that anything has changed at all."

"I know," she bit her lip and I looked away, my own emotions churning in silence.

When she made no further attempt to speak, I inquired, "Miss Gordon, is something amiss?"

Taking a moment to push back a strand of loose auburn hair, she answered, "Alfred, he asked me why I was in a wheelchair." My silence urged her on, "I told him someone had hurt me, someone bad… I obviously didn't give him the whole story but… the look in his eyes… I had expected him to be sad or worried… Alfred, he looked angry. He wanted to know if that person was caught and even though I told him he was… he was still… he was so… Bruce."

"It seems logical enough, Ms. Barbara… he can no longer contain emotions he once held beneath he surface, especially those concerning the ones he cares for," I paused to adjust the tea cup on its saucer. I was tempted to inform her of my bedtime chat with Master Bruce the night of July fourth, hearing such affection in his voice and words for his eldest. Something I had also been waiting to hear for some time.

Before she could reply, Master Bruce appeared at the door, his shirt twisted about his form and the back of his head displayed hair that stood nearly vertical. He rubbed his left eye with the back of his hand. When I glanced down at his feet, I smiled to find that one of his socks had been absent..

I chuckled despite myself, for it had been thirty odd years since I had seen in him in such disarray. Ms. Barbara joined in, laughing softly before adding, "Good morning sleepy head. Like the hair… very styling."

He offered a broad smile, running hands through his graying hair, making it even more chaotic, "Better?"

"Couldn't get any worse," Ms. Barbara had countered, reaching scorss the table to squeeze my hand.

^V^


	8. Time Will Tell: VII

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been revised to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

The night had been brisk as my breath rose in soft puffy clouds. I had dashed out of the theatre, slashing invisible foes with my invisible sword. I had heard my father's soft chuckle as he guided my mother out the door. As I had spun around and fought with the imaginary, corrupt soldiers, I had caught a glimpse of them.

My father had wrapped his arm around my mother's back, offering warmth against he chilly eve. She had turned her head and whispered something in his ear, something that had made them both smile.

Continuing my one man war on crime, my mother had said, "What a magnificent Zorro you make."

"I know. I'm the best swash-buckler in Gotham!" I had then proceeded to stab the a, imaging my foes falling to the ground.

My mother had laughed, "That you are, Brucie. But even great swordsman need to put their hats and coats on."

I had sighed and trudged back to where they had been standing. With as much pouting as I had been able to muster, I had put my coat and hat on. Then, before it was even buttoned all of the way, I had leapt forward and slashed at more invisible fiends.

Before my mother had been able to stop me, my father had laughed out loud, "Let him be, Mattie, he's busy saving the day."

As we left the front of the theatre, I had been ushered back to walk closer with them as we walked to the nearby parking lot. Usually, we had gone to the nicer places in the theatre district but since this was an older movie it was only playing at the Monarch. I hadn't admitted as much, but I had liked it better, their popcorn was hot and fresh and twice as buttery than the fancier places.

My father had promised a while ago that when it played, that he would take me. He had dressed as Zorro a few years ago at a Halloween party and after seeing the movie, it was amazing how much he now looked like Diego Del La Vega. I was about to say so when they started talking about the hospital with my mother. Rather than walk beside my father, I had lagged a step behind. When they did this at home, I would find Alfred. He would always talk to me.

I couldn't wait to tell him all about Zorro. Maybe he could help me make the cave in the back yard into my lair and I would have been able to---.

"Gimme yer wallet!" a shivering voice suddenly rang out.

I had looked up to see a dark clothed man standing with a gun beyond my father's clenched fist. My eyes had widened in fear as my father refused to do so. I had wanted to tell him to do it so he wouldn't get hurt when the man had glanced at my mother, who was shaking in fear.

"Fine, the lady's pearls'll do..."

My father had lunged at the man and a thunder crack had shot through the night air. I had watched as my father's body jerked and fell to the cold pavement. His arm had twitched a few times and then he lay very still. I had then looked up to see the man with the gun, hooking his wrist around my mother's pearl necklace. She had screamed as he pressed the gun to her throat.

Another thunder crack.

The pearls had flown everywhere, scattering over the dirty pavement, bouncing. My mother had fallen beside my father, convulsing as blood spurted from the cavern in her neck. I had tried to look away but I hadn't been able to, my eyes locked on the pool of dark red liquid surrounded my parents.

The man had vanished, his footsteps echoing nearly as loud as the pearls dancing.

Then there had been silence.

"No," I had whispered.

I was supposed to protect you.

My mother's tremors had ceased and she had finally grown still.

My father hadn't moved since he had fallen.

I had touched his arm. No response. I had pushed him a little bit. Nothing.

""No," my voice had quivered.

I then had set my hand on my mother's pained face.

"No," I had said more firmly, "No..."

As I had knelt between them, their blood had soaked through my pants. My nice slacks.

Closing my eyes, I had screamed, "No!"

"Bruce, it's okay!"

I opened them to find Dick sitting over me, the overhead lights on, showing him to be wearing a blue tee shirt and flannel pants. Even in my panicked state, I thought it was off that he looked like he had just taken a shower, hair wet, face a little red and jaw shaved.

"It was just a bad dream, Bruce, it's okay now… here, have some water," he said as he reached for the glass on the bedside table.

"It, it wasn't a dream it was real…" I took a deep breath before continuing, "It really happened." I had been having weird dreams and nightmares for weeks but it had been the first one that had felt as if I had actually been there.

When I covered my face with my hands instead of taking the water, Dick set the glass back down and then set a hand on my shoulder, "Bruce, I know it seems like it but... It's just a dream… it can't hurt you…"

"they were real, Dick," I managed before tears came flowing from my eyes, just as they had in the dream.

Puzzled, he asked, "Who was real, Bruce?"

"My parents... They were real."

Dick sighed, rubbing my shoulder, "Yes, they were real, but your dreams aren't."

I shook his head violently, taking my hands off of my face to push his arm off of me, "No. You're wrong. I was there. I know it, Dick."

Taking a breath, he then questioned, "What did you see, Bruce?"

In the two minutes since I had been woken up, the dream's impact had remained strong but the images hadn't. doing my best to focus, I started saying things that came to mind, "They were there. Laughing. Swords... I had a sword, bad guys everywhere... But they couldn't hurt me, 'cause I was Zorro. And then the thunder... They were bleeding... Dick, they were bleeding all over and the pearls..."

When I looked up at him, Dick's mouth was open in shock, eyes wide in surprise.

"That's what you saw?" he finally managed.

I nodded but when he asked if I had see anything else, I couldn't say what.

Rising to his feet, Dick straightened my blankets, turning on the bedside lamp before saying, "No wonder you were scared… It's still pretty late, you should try and get beack to sleep."

"Can you stay?"

He nodded, "Of course." As he walked over to turn the overhead lights off, I looked to the alarm clock, surprised to see it was four-thirty in the morning. Why would he shower so early in the morning?

After I laid back down, Dick sat on the edge of the bed once more, seemingly starign anywhere but at me.

"Dick, did I remember?"

He nodded, "A little bit."

"Wish I could remember all of my dream… Can I remember more, you think?"

Dick paused, looking down at his lap before replying, "Maybe."

^V^

"I am going to kill him, Barbara."

I smiled and put the phone receiver between my jaw and shoulder, "Hey, it's not all his fault."

Selina growled in response, "Um, yes it is. If he hadn't been so seductive and charming and hadn't always worn those damn skin tight suits… When he gets better, I'm going to kill him."

At four months pregnant, Selina was far from the happiest mother-to-be. Her first trimester had been horrendous, with near constant nausea, cramping and heartburn. The independent woman that she was, Selina had suffered in somewhat silence, ascertaining that she was more than capable of handling this latest hurdle in her life on her own. Although we were together frequently when at the Manor with Bruce, she had taken to calling me socially at all hours of the night. I wa bale to discern her mood by what hour she called. Anything after midnight and I was going to be getting an entertaining earful.

On the fifteenth of August, she had spiced things up by calling me at noon although rather than vent about her delicate condition, she had two topics on her agenda: maternity clothes shopping and a date with Bruce Wayne.

"I look like damned Moby Dick."

I sighed, adjusting the phone once more as my fingers fought with inserting a new aural device into Dick's cowl, "Selina, I don't want to be the bearer of bad news but you have five months to go."

"Don't remind me," she growled, "I'll be two Mob Dick's. The worst part is that quack of an obstetrician want to me gain more weight…"

"You are eating for two,," I snickered.

"I'm eating for three… hell, four. They measured the baby at my ultrasound Tuesday morning, already six inches and six and a half ounces… going to come out full grown…" Selina swore under her breath, before explaining she had spilt milk all over the counter.

"Happens to the best of us," I offered before asking, "So when are you going clothes shopping, I've been indoors all morning, could use dome fresh air."

"Well… I think I can hold out one more day… wait, you didn't go up to Bristol?"

"No, Dick ending up taking the day off, guess Bruce had a rough night."

The humor in her voice vanished, concern taking its place, "Is he okay?"

Dick had called me a little after eight to tell me he would be at the manor for the day. When I had asked what was up, he had explained that Bruce had a pretty bad nightmare. Not unusual, but then he had explained that it had sounded like Bruce had remembered the night of his parents' murders.

"This is big, Babs… This could be the start of it, you know?" I had told him to not get his hopes up and he had sighed, "I know, I know, I can't help it. My glass is always full."

Thinking of Selina's glass being empty, I finally replied, "He had a bad nightmare, had trouble getting back to sleep… Dick just couldn't leave him after that."

"Such a good boy." she commented, trying to put lightness back into her tone.

"That he is… well, I'll clear my schedule for tomorrow, if you need emotional support shopping for jeans with elastic waist bands."

She laughed sadly, "What would I do without you?"

"What would any of you do without me?"

I hung up after wishing her luck on her date. It had taken a considerable amount of begging and pleading to convince everyone Bruce was ready for a trip into the city. He had a perfect grasp on proper etiquette and his mild immaturity fit Bruce Wayne the Fop perfectly. That, and with Selina at his side, no harm would possibly come to him as she would be able to cover if anyone approached him.

It was actually a nice set up, late afternoon meal at a wonderful little place on the harbor that socialites seemed to avoid given its reasonably priced, delicious food. I only knew of it because it was one of Dad's favorite places. He had often jested, "Why eat bounty literally fresh from the sea for half the price for seafood two days old in midtown?"

After seeking approval, Dick had apparently informed Bruce of the plan last night and I wondered if the excitement of the trip to the city had sparked the nightmare. Before the shooting, on the rare nights I had spent at the Manor, I had been awoken from a dead sleep hearing cries and shouts in the dark. It was never a topic of dscussion the next morning and the one time I had brought it up to Alfred, he had been quick to settle any burning embers of inquiry.

Although where Bruce had once suffered his burden alone, he now looked for comfort after night terrors.

Thinking of the Manor, I found myself dialing the number, pleased to hear Dick greet, "What kinda pizza you want-a?"

"Caller ID… it takes all the fun out of impromptu phone calls."

"I beg to differ, I think it makes it all the more fun… What's up?"

"Not much, wondering how things were going up there."

Dick cleared his throat, "Not bad… trying to pick out an outfit for tonight. Bruce doesn't want to wear a tie."

I heard Bruce's faint voice, "It's too hot out."

"Formal casual, that's fine," I offered.

"All right," Dick conceded, "No tie… but you're still not driving."

"Since when has he been driving?" I asked while picturing him tearing up the priceless greens of the Manor's grounds.

Bruce said something and when asked Dick what it had been, he laughed, "Well, it was our little secret… we can trust Barbara, though. She won't rat us out to Alfred."

^V^

For the entire twenty-minute drive through the Bristol countryside and onto the main freeway, Master Bruce fidgeted. A nervous habit. A very disturbing nervous habit. Not so much in the ordinary man, but seeing such anxiety in a being that once had complete control over every inch of his body…

Every glance I took in the rear view mirror, he had obtained a different position in the seat, rolled up and unrolled his sleeves or had been at work on the control panel's buttons.

So for the duration of drive, we listened to nearly a dozen radio stations at countless volume levels and from many speaker combinations. Upon entering the city limits, his gaze fixed more often to the buildings and vehicles surrounding him and the fidgeting lessened. But did not cease.

He had been to the city a handful of times since May, namely to visit Ms. Barbara at her residence and to have bi-weekly appointments with Leslie. Each time we passed over the St. James parkway towards the first monstrous bridge leading into the city, he had been mesmerized by the skyline. To think he used to trapeze about on their rooftops.

This was to be his first public visit and although it was in a secluded part of town, I still found my self wrought with worry. He was going to be under the good care of Ms. Selina but I would have much preferred they simply dine at her penthouse. Master Dick had finally pointed out that keeping him locked up would only hinder his ability to completely redevelop his social skills. Keeping him stunted.

With a sigh, I had agreed.

Whilst preparing o leave for the late afternoon date, Master Tim had arrived at the Manor to utilize the training bay of the Cave. Rather than head directly to the study, Master Tim had opted to spend time with his former mentor, giving him tips on how to have a "good date". Despite it being summer vacation., Maser Tim had found little time to spend at the Manor during the days and the one instance I had inquired about it, a disheartened look had come over him.

"It's hard, Al," he had sighed, "I can't even look at him in the face."

I had offered words of encouragement, "It has been difficult for all of us, young sir, but given how little time yo have spent in this Family, alongside Miss Cassandra, I would imagine it to be insurmountably more difficult. Nothing to be ashamed of."

Walking into the den to see Master Tim recite compliments to say to Ms. Selina had put a much needed smile on my face.

He, as well as Master Dick and Ms. Cassandra had fought the never ending string of criminals throughout the summer months. Although at first it had been a hurdle to carry on in Master Bruce's stead, they had finally learned through trial and error how to manage on their own. I couldn't help but think that the skills he had taught them, the independent thinking and adaptability he had forced on them, had allowed them to proceed as quickly as they had.

He had raised them well.

And how would he fair with a child of his very own, from infancy rather than entering his life through tragedy?

The subject had been broached a number of times and since I was the one who spent the most time with my charge, I felt as if he was prepared to learn the truth. It was far better that he be told and have matters explained then to have him discover it on his own and have unanswered questions. Lord knew he had enough mysteries floating in his mind, he certainly had no need for another.

As we neared Ms. Kyle's apartment, his behavior returned and in fact worsened as he began to toy with the electronic window controls.

"Sir," I warned while pulling into the parking area out front.

"Sorry, Alfred. Little nervous. Do you have any---"

I handed a mint back to him as I parked the car.

"Thanks. Should I take the---"

The small bouquet of flowers was then passed back to my anxious master.

"Thanks, again." He opened the door and was about to shut it when he popped his head back in with his mouth opened to speak.

I replied before he could even ask, "Your hair is fine, sir."

He smiled and left.

^V^

I was stepping out of the elevator into the lobby when he walked in. Even for him, he looked good in tailored midnight blue slacks and blazer, slate blue shirt with the top two buttons undone. I smiled when I noticed the small collection of roses he tried to hide behind his back as he searched the near empty atrium. Before calling his attention, I observed him from a distance.

When we had started dating a little over a year ago his six-one frame bore over two hundred pounds of a perfect muscular system. His hair had been jet-black and he had always appeared in complete control of his facial expressions, whether it had been as the dim-witted playboy or the emotionally plagued Batman.

But that had been a year ago.

He still had the chiseled features but he had trimmed up a bit. Dick had said the day before that they had weighed him and he was just pushing one-eighty. His hair was no longer black, but singed with gray, especially at the temples. Dr. Thompkins had said it was common for victims of major trauma, whether physical or emotional, to suffer from rapid aging. His facial muscles were relaxed, and often folded into a full smile.

The scar above his left eye had faded some, but it was still noticeable if you knew to look for it.

A permanent reminder.

But the man still looked damn fine.

After seeing his smile wane slightly, I mad my way over and greeted him with a smile and a hand on his elbow, "Hey stranger."

His eyes lit up, "Hi," after handing me the flowers, he added, "These are for you. From our garden. Alfred said it would mean more.. Than buying them."

"Did you pick them?" In place of answering he held up his left hand showing a few tiny pricks in them. I couldn't help but laugh, stepping up onto my toes to kiss his cheek, "Thank you, Bruce."

He stiffened slightly and then looked to the doro to hide his blush, "Shall we?"

"Let's," I answered, holding the flowers in my right arm while looping my left with his arm. Passing through the revolving doors, the rush of air wafted his cologne over me, sending my memories reeling.

Myself barely thirty years old; flirting with a young and bashful Bruce Wayne...

My claws tracing the outlines of the Batman's chest muscles...

Waking up in the morning, my face in the crook of his neck...

Sniffing his sweaters after watching the news the morning after the shooting...

"Selina, you all right?"

I looked up to see Bruce holding the car door open for me. I nodded and stepped in. He paused before shutting the door and than got in on the other side. I bit my lip and looked to see Alfred smiling in the mirror.

"Hi, Alfred."

"Ms. Selina, what a pleasant surprise."

As we pulled out onto the avenue, I snuck my hand over to Bruce's knee and gripped that hand that rested there. He looked up and smiled before squeezing back.

Same old charm. Same old Bruce.

The ride to the other side of the city took nearly twenty minutes, most of which I spent chatting Bruce up about what he had been up to lately. Where he would have once brushed off my questions, he readily answered them animatedly. He even leaned over to whisper into my ear, "Dick's teaching me how to drive, but Alfred doesn't know."

I wanted to say that Alfred knew everything but I settled for congratulating him with another kiss on the cheek.

Three minutes early for our reservation, the host ushered us directly to a table that was ready and waiting, including two candlesticks freshly lit. Bruce pulled my chair out for me and gently pushed me in before taking his seat across from me. Instinct urged me to kick off my shoe and trace my toes up and down his shin but I somehow managed to keep my feet planted on the ground.

As the host listed off the house recommendations for the amuse bouche, entrees and paired wines, I looked to Bruce before answering, "Hon?"

"Oh, this is all you," he grinned.

"Be that way,… we'll have the spinach, frisee and pear salad… and… we'll share the seafood tortellini."

"Ah yes, and to drink, might I recommend a nice Sangiovese…"

"No thank you," I set a hand on my stomach and the host nodded with a knowing smile. After ordering raspberry tea for the both of us, the gentleman departed.

Looking to Bruce, I found his gaze was directly staring at my abdomen. As I moved my hand across the table to reach for his, I asked, "Bruce?"

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Are you okay?"

He looked up and met my eyes before turning them away, scanning the busy restaurant.

"What's wrong?" I asked, finally latching onto his hand.

His breathing had hitched a bit as he finally looked back to me, "Are you... With child?"

I nodded, gently brushing my thumb over his quaking hand, "Yes… four months."

His heart visibly sank deep into his gut, "Oh."

"Oh? Does that upset you?"

He shrugged, then let go of me to play with his napkin, "Well, yeah. Alfred said that to have a baby you have to be married or… be with someone for a long, long time… and I... I like you, Selina, I like you a lot and if you're then you already have someone---."

I cut him off, "Love, Bruce. If you like someone a lot, you love them."

He nodded, "Well, then… I love you."

I love you.

Emotions choked me momentarily, but I replied as soon as I could, "I love you, too, Bruce. You are very special to me."

He shook his head, "But what about the father? You can't love more than one person like that, can you?"

I shook my head, "No, you can love people differently. Like how you love Dick as a son and Barbara as a friend. I love the father of my child with all of my heart, though."

He looked confused, "Then how can you love me, too, Selina, I don't understand."

I rose from my chair next to his and kissed his cheek softly. Before moving my face from his, I whispered in his ear something that would surely earn an ass-reaming from Leslie and Alfred.

"I love only you because… You are the father of my child, Bruce."

^V^


	9. Time Will Tell: VIII

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been modified to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

"Come on, Jim. My treat."

Sitting at my desk, I looked up to see the face of Renee Montoya with a slight upward curve in her lips. My gaze then returned to a small framed photo of Barbara that was just visible behind a mountain of special crimes files. The picture was over a decade old, but it had captured the very essence of my daughter. Braided shoulder-length hair, face full of freckles, bright white smile. She wasn't more than sixteen at the time I had taken it.

Same time she donned the cowl?

I had spent a majority of the summer digging into a theory that I had ignored for far too long. The deeper I had looked into her youth, the more plausible her being Batgirl had become. Every sprained ankle from "gymnastics" or bruised body from a bad "karate lesson" had by chance matched up with front-page articles declaring the success of the caped crusaders.

Batman.

Robin.

Batgirl.

Barbara had always been interested in justice, far beyond what any normal policeman's daughter should have been. She had always inquired about my dealings with Batman and his allies, her soft smiles making sense after so many years. Hell, the way she and Robin had first met, on the rooftop, they way they had stared in shock at one another.

I once was blind, but now I see…

Batgirl had disappeared from the city's night life shortly before the Joker had shot Barbara and taken me hostage, rather than after. Confusing, but at the thime I had far more important things to worry about. She had returned during the No Man's Land that had seized Gotham, but obviously a much smaller and younger girl. One who never uttered a word where the original had always been forthcoming…

I had also found out something inconsequential in regards to my daughter being the former Batgirl.

Bruce Wayne was back in town, still on a sabbatical from his duties at Wayne Enterprises but making attempts at private visits in town. Dinner in secluded restaurants, walking in Robinson Park and more importantly, making long visits to my daughter's apartment in the Clocktower. Since I had overheard the message he had left at her apartment, I had been keeping tabs on him, hoping to find him courting another woman rather than my daughter.

On the Fourth of July, I had dropped by her place unannounced just before dusk.

"

"

"

"

"

The look of surprise on her face suggested she had forgotten I had been a detective once, "Dad, how did you know that?"

"

Barbara had smirked at that before replying, "We're not dating, Dad…He's just going through a rough time… needs someone to talk to, someone who knows him outside of being a billionaire playboy."

"

Her smirk had faded before she had answered, "Dick knows, he understands."

"I bet he does," I had sighed while trying to accept the fact that she had passed on her strained relationship with the ward of the man she wasn't dating.

We had left it at that, never mentioning it again.

When Montoya proposed lunch once more, I nodded as I stood and grabbed my blazer. It was in the eighties but I needed something to cover the holsters as I wouldn't want to ruin anyone's lunch. Montoya, who had just closed a special crimes case involving the estranged Cornelius Stirk with the aide of Gotham's newest caped crusader, was in a mood to celebrate. I, on the other hand, needed a distraction from my constantly brewing thoughts about Barbara being courted by a man ten years her senior.

She paused while I donned my coat, "Fresh ocean air will do you good, Jim."

"So would a Chastity belt on my Barb…." I muttered.

She turned, "What, Jim?"

"Nothing. Should we invite Bullock?"

"He's interrogating that head of the car theft ring… said to bring him something back."

Upon arriving at the restaurant, making good time in the early afternoon traffic, we had made it ten minutes before our reservation. Although the place was far from packed, the bar was and we were asked to enjoy drinks out on the front patio. Unlike the interior, the wrought iron tables were barren. It had seemed odd considering the nice breeze that was battling the humid air. As the hostess had escorted us to one of the smaller tables, she stated that the patio was reserved for a dinner party at five.

We chatted about Montoya's case in between a waitress arriving to take our drink orders and then delivering them five minutes later. After twenty-five minutes and two complimentary drinks each, I noticed a couple step through the front doors and down the steps and towards a tree shaded sitting area.. The woman appeared to be pregnant, early on maybe second trimester at best. She was still very attractive in a tailored pantsuit, makeup accenting a stunning face surrounded by dark, wavy hair.

Walking in front of the patio, I noticed she had taken his hand into hers, just another happy couple enjoying an afternoon together. I couldn't help but to think back to my first wife when she had been carrying my firstborn son. As much as we had loved one another, my decision to move us to Gotham had driven a wedge between us and we spent most of those long nine months fighting.

As they passed, I looked up while taking a sip of my tea, just in time to see his face.

My chest was soaked as I dumped the tea all over myself.

Bruce Wayne…. holding hands with a pregnant woman? Was it his child? Or was she just a friend? Did he get married abroad and no one knew?

I studied his face as Montoya exclaimed, "What happened, Jim, miss your mouth?"

"Excuse me," I rose from the table as the happy couple approached a pair of chairs, "I'll be right back."

^V^

I had lost the ability to breathe.

The skin of my face had been burning where her lips had touched me. My ears had been ringing from her words. My chest had closed up and my head had gone light from the lack of oxygen…

I had barely felt Selina's arm snake around my shoulders as she pulled me to her. Her breath had landed softly on my neck as she whispered, "Bruce?"

My mouth had opened slightly but nothing had come out.

Father? How could I be a father?

I didn't even know how babies were made, let alone for me to do it to Selina?

Why hadn't anybody told me?

After a moment of silence, her arm had dropped slowly and she had repeated herself, "Bruce, are you okay?"

I had cleared my throat, "Selina?"

"Yes, Bruce?"

My eyes had glanced down at her abdomen and then back to her eyes. What had I even wanted to say? I hadn't been that confused in months… I had needed Alfred, or Dick. They would have known what to have said.

Another thought had struck my frenzied mind, if I was the father of Selina's baby, were we married? Had they lied to me?

As much as I had wanted to, I couldn't ask her, not there. Instead, I had simply mumbled, "I… I don't feel good… I'm sorry, I… I ruined our dinner."

She had sighed as she took my hand into hers "No, I shouldn't have told you… not like this…Bruce, if you want, I'll call Alfred and we can go home."

Home. Was it our home?

I had nodded, my words lost once more.

Selina had stood upright after kissing my cheek. She had made her way to the waiter's booth where she chatted a bit with the man who had taken our orders. After she had handed him some money, she had retrieved a cell phone from her purse and turned away from me as she spoke into it. When she had returned to our table, she had grabbed my hand once more, "Alfred's on his way… Let's get some fresh air while we wait for him."

I had nodded and unsteadily walked beside her out to the main entrance, our hands only separating when I held the door for her. Alfred had said that manners had never been my strong suit but I couldn't imagine why.

I would have done anything for her, especially then.

We had walked in front of the patio and headed towards a small sitting area that had wrought iron chairs situated beneath a number tall, willowy trees. Before taking a seat, I had managed, "Selina?"

Turning to face me, she had smiled softly while cocking her head to the left, "Yes?"

"I… are we married?" She had looked away as I continued, "I mean, I don't have a ring and you don't…"

"No, we aren't," her eyes had continued to avoid me, "We were dating before your accident…"

"Did we want a baby?"

Selina had finally looked up at me, "Bruce, I don't know how to answer that…"

Nodding, I had apologized, "I'm sorry, I'm just really confused."

As my words had given way to a nervous laugh, Selina had turned to take a seat and motioned for me to do the same, "Good, that makes two of us."

Since I had been looking down at her, I had my back to the restaurant as well as to the gray-haired man that was approaching. I hadn't even seen the man coming.

Or his fist.

The next second, I was on the pavement with blood seeping from between the fingers pressed to my mouth.

As if I hadn't been confused before…

The man growled something under his breath as Selina jumped from her seat, yelling at him to back off. He was about to yell back but stopped as he recognized her, "Selina Kyle?"

She ignored him as she knelt beside me, setting one hand on my shoulder while the other cupped the side of my face, "It's okay, Bruce, let me see…" After Selina inspected my split lip, she returned her focus to Gordon, "What in the hell was that for?"

He sputtered a bit as a woman in a dark blue pantsuit approached, poised for action, "I… He's dating the both of you."

"What?" Selina snapped as she helped me to my feet. I looked up at the man and the woman's confused faces and then looked at my feet. I wanted to be anywhere in the world other than right there.

"You. And my Barbara," he growled as he pointed at me.

She growled in response, defensively stepping in front of me, "He isn't dating Barbara… Where'd you… He's not even… Damn you for…" Although she hadn't been able to get a complete sentence out, she hesitated as Alfred pulled up. She then looked to me, "bruce, get in the car."

"But what if he---." I started.

"I'll take care of this."

I glanced up at the man and woman once more, their confusion had finally matched my own. Reluctantly, I turned and got into the car before Alfred had been able to open the door for me. As he grabbed the handle, he looked at me with concern, "Sir, are you all right?"

"Yeah," I touched my lip, "I guess…"

He nodded, still with a worried look on his face, and then spoke before shutting the door, "Very good, sir."

^V^

Before leaving Master Bruce in the safety of the Town Car while I joined Ms. Selina, I telephoned Master Dick. He had been in Gotham for a prisoner transfer and had intended on dropping by the Manor before returning to Bludhaven for the evening.

Using my rarely used mobile telephone, I dialed and waited impatiently for the duration of two rings. He then answered, "Hey, al, what's up?"

"Sir, there has been an incident requiring your attention---."

"What's happened, is he all right?" he inquired frantically.

"No worse for the wear… He attended an early dinner with Ms Kyle and… it appears Commissioner Gordon intervened."

"What? What are talking about--- never mind, where are you?" After providing the address, he growled, "I'll be there in two minutes."

Looking once more to the tinted window where no doubt Master Bruce was intently looking out at the scene before him, I took a breath and began to quickly walk over. Thankfully, those within the restaurant had not noticed whatever had transpired and the voices of the three individuals I was approaching had remained civil.

Although the tone had certainly not.

Ms. Kyle promptly was feverishly growling at a dumbfounded Commissioner Gordon and Detective Montoya. I recognized a number of colorful words and then, "--- assume anything, why in the hell would you think that?"

It was reassuring to know that she had not lost her innate aggression due to her childbearing induced hormones

As the police officers looked in my direction, Ms. Selina did as well. I cleared my throat before inquiring, "Ms. Kyle… Master Bruce seems to be all right, and… might one inquire as to how this altercation arose?"

Commissioner Gordon cleared his throat, "I.. overreacted. I thought he was dating my daughter and when I saw him with Ms. Kyle… I---."

"Punched him. In the face," Ms. Selina finished for him.

I nodded, "I see… then this has been an unfortunate misunderstanding, has it not?"

"Unfortunate for him," Ms. Selina glared.

Before I could make another attempt appease the situation, Detective Montoya looked behind me, "You called the cops, we are the---."

"No," the commissioner interrupted her, "That's Bludhaven PD."

the patrol car approached taking the nearest spot. Even though Master Dick had pulled up without lights and sirens, a hostess appeared out the front entrance with a look of fear on her face. After Dick stepped out of the car and donned his hat, he waved and offered a friendly smile, "Just visiting, ma'am."

"Oh… um… the table is ready for the party of two."

Commissioner Gordon nodded, "Give it to someone else."

Although she had returned inside the restaurant, there were no doubt a series of prying eyes were within. Nodding the Master Dick, he then proceed, Al, why don't you take Bruce to the Manor, I'll bring Selina up shortly. Maybe we can have dinner… without an audience."

Returning to the car, I took the driver's seat, buckling in as I stared into the rear view mirror. Master Bruce had wiped his face clean, and seemed to be proudly sporting his battle wound as a soft smile was gracing his lips.

"Sir?"

He looked up at me, "Funny seeing Dick driving a cop car."

"That it is, sir… An eventful afternoon, sir."

"Eventful… I suppose… I mean, I did become a father."

I nodded as I carefully pulled out of the parking lot and onto a one-way street. It wasn't until I had maneuvered three traffic lights that his words sank in. After a methodical breath, I asked, "Sir, did you say, you became a father?"

"Yeah. With Selina."

With my mind instantly dragged into the filth of the gutter, I asked, "Where did this event take place?"

"At the restaurant. Right there at the table."

My eyes nearly leapt from their orbits in shock at picturing Master Bruce and Ms. Kyle… On the table… Partaking in inappropriate actions with wary eyes watching.

No wonder the commissioner had hit him.

"In public, you say you did this?"

Master Bruce nodded and touched his sore lip, "Yeah. No one heard us though."

I found myself coughing before being able to continue, "Uh, sir, did… I'm not quite following you, sir. Please, tell me what happened?"

He shrugged and looked up at my reflection, "Nothing really. She just did it."

"Did what, sir?"

"You know, Alfred."

"Enlighten me, Master Bruce."

"She just said that I was the father."

I felt an immense weight free itself from my chest. Words, Alfred Pennyworth, just words, not… Actions.

I smiled slightly, "Well, than, sir, congratulations are in order."

His shoulders slouched a fraction, "Alfred?"

"Yes, sir?"

"What did I do to make her have a baby?"

I had given a twelve-year-old Master Bruce a similar talk decades ago. It certainly would not happen again, "Well, sir, I will have to put that question up to Master Dick. I'll see to it that he comes to the Manor this evening."

^V^

Breaking up a fight between Catwoman and Commissioner Gordon wasn't exactly how I had intended to spend my afternoon

Given my ties to Gotham, I had always seen to it that I was available for any ad all prisoner transports from Bludhaven. When Bruce had been framed for the murder of Vesper Fairchild, I had even gone as far as paying off my co-pilot for the night, leaving him at one of Gotham's premiere strip clubs so I could visit Bruce in his holding cell.

Seeming him in that dark cell, alone and riddled with fury, had once been the worst thing I had ever seen.

A lifetime ago…

After Alfred had left with Bruce, I looked back to the tense figures before me, "All right, what happened?"

As Selina opened her mouth, Jim stepped forward and explained things from his point of view. I had to fight back a smile, knowing full well that his false assumptions had been well supported from his point of view. Barbara and Bruce had been spending the last four months together more often than not. My busy life had prevented from me spending any alone time with her, not even so much as a dinner.

Typical jealous man thinking.

"Okay," I offered as he finished, When Selina went to speak up, I shook my head, "Okay, I said. What's done is done."

She crossed her arms over her chest and sent me a glare that would have rivaled one of Bruce's.

Suppressing a shudder, I proceeded, "Jim… If you've got some time, I'd like to talk this over a bit, in private."

We all looked to Montoya who shook her head, "Fine by me."

Jim sighed, "Hold things down at the fort… I'll be back as soon as I can." Once she had begun walking towards her unmarked, Jim continued, "What in the hell is going on, son?"

I found my hands resting on my hips, my right thumb grazing the butt of my service weapon. As I looked around the parking lot, I replied, "Little too public… mind going for a drive?"

"If I can get some answers."

"You can have them all," I smiled back.

Selina looked to me, "Damned if I'm riding in the back."

It was a long, painfully tense and silent drive to Bristol, made only longer by commuters making the trek home. Once I navigated the patrol car up the winding drive, I pulled around back and parked behind the garage. We all noticed Bruce sitting out on the rear terrace by himself, staring out at the expansive green of the rear lawn.

Selina excused herself, slamming the door shut before walking briskly up the walk and stone steps. I smiled when Bruce looked up at her just before she leaned over and kissed him.

"Bet you wanted to kill him."

"What?" Jim asked.

"Thinking he was with Barbara and seeing him with Selina."

"Close to it, son."

Althoguh I had taken my hat off after getting in the car at the restaurant, my scalp still tingled. Running a hand through my hair, I proceeded to rub it over my face as well, pretending I could wash away the fatigue.

"Is it his?"

"The baby?" I asked, and when his reflection clarified with a nod, I proceeded, "Yes. Four months along now… Kind of a surprise for all of us."

He sighed before asking, "They going to get married?"

I couldn't help but laugh, knowing that remembering his vows was the last thing Bruce needed to worry about, "No. I don't know about that. He's not ready…"

"He better be responsible at least."

My smile grew, picturing an infant in Bruce's arms, "Oh, I'm sure he'll want to play with it all the time."

"Play with… Damnit, you have more maturity than he does!"

My amused smile quickly died off, "For the moment, yes. He'll get better, though."

His reflection in the mirror said it was time for me to stop skirting around the real issue at hand.

Letting my voice drop an octave and a half, I explained, "I should have never lied to you… that he had died after Pasqualle shot him… After he woke up form the coma… he had lost everything, he was infant trapped in a grown man's body… Now, look at him…"

My eyes left the rear view mirror and found Selina and Bruce walking hand in hand into the house, "Leslie had given him so little odds of ever recovering… it just felt like the right thing to do at the time. Like telling you the truth now… It just seems right."

Given that the only sound from the backseat was heavy breathing, I continued, "I know he never told you who he was, but he had always thought that if you wanted to know, you were more than capable of finding out by yourself… But now… I don't think there's a reason to hide behind a mask… I think you deserve to know..."

I finally turned in the driver's seat, looking back to see his eyes glassy, no doubt not at my revelation of who Bruce was but the fact that his best friend was still alive.

"I think… you deserve to be Family."

As I fell silent, I waited for him to say something, anything.

Five minutes later, his moustache twitched and he asked, "Can I… Can I see him?"

I grinned, "As long as you keep that right cross to yourself."

^V^


	10. Time Will Tell: IX

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been modified to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

My mouth hurt, but that wasn't what bothered me.

Dick was sitting in the patrol car with the man who had hit me, and he appeared to me smiling. Every time I gazed in their direction, they were talking, or at least Dick seemed to be talking.

Had Dick arrested him?

I had expected Alfred to explain what had happened and who the man and woman had been on the ride home but he barely said a word. He, like Leslie, were uncomfortable with me going into the city, saying I wasn't quite back to my old self yet. But I liked to, no, I loved it. After being cooped up in the Manor for so long, it was amazing to be able to walk the streets.

Thinking back to the restaurant, I couldn't remember saying or doing anything mean, especially to the man who had hit me. In fact, I couldn't remember even seeing him at all. Perhaps before my accident, I had done something to him, but that didn't seem right.

What could I have possibly done?

"Bruce, let's go inside, get you an ice pack for that lip."

I looked up at her and nodded, glancing to Dick's car once more before getting to my feet.

It didn't make any sense.

Upon arriving home, Alfred had left me on my own to tend to a few things in the house. I expected him to be in the kitchen when Selina and I entered the room but was surprised to see it empty. She patted one of the counter stools before heading to the refrigerator. Taking a seat, I touched my lip gently, feeling the dried blood and swollen tissue.

"Got you pretty good, didn't he?" she asked as she retrieved ice cubes, nestling them in a hand towel.

"Yeah…" I replied quietly.

As she pressed the ice pack to my face with her right hand and rested her left on the top of my shoulder, rubbing it gently. I studied her face, confused by seeing her so emotionally upset. Usually, she was always smiling, always happy. If I hadn't overreacted to her telling me I was the father, we would have been enjoying dinner and I wouldn't have been hit and…

All my fault.

I felt her fingers begin to knead my muscles and found myself tensing instead of relaxing. There were still many moments where I felt nervous around people, especially with lots of physical contact. Usually, when it was with Selina, it was easier to try and relax but for some reason, I couldn't.

She must have sensed it and quickly dropped her hand from my shoulder before removing the ice pack. Even though it had only been a few minutes, it felt much better. As she looked it over, I found myself looking into her eyes. When she stared back, I dropped my line of sight to the marble countertop.

"Bruce?" Selina asked suddenly, "You okay for now?"

Without looking up at her, I nodded.

"Well, I'm going to try and hunt down Alfred… you want to go into the study for a bit?"

Another silent nod.

Her fingers found my chin, gently raising it to force me to look at her. "Did Alfred tell you who the man is?" When I shook my head, she continued, "It's Barbara's father. Jim. He thought… since you've been spending so much time with Barbara that you were dating… when he saw us together, he thought you were cheating on her. That's why he was angry, that's why he hit you."

When I didn't respond, she added, "You didn't do anything wrong, Bruce…"

"I know… I just… why would he hit me? If he thought that?"

Biting her lip, she fought a smile before replying, "Because fathers want to protect their daughters."

I responded, "Or sons."

She leaned in and kissed my cheek, "Or sons."

^V^

Entering the Manor through the service entrance, I followed Dick through the small foyer, passed the kitchen and pantry and into the corridor, all without a word. My mind was racing with questions, but I couldn't find the will or perhaps nerve to ask them aloud. He stopped at a number of doors, pressing his ear to them before moving on to another. When he paused before a large, dark stained oak door near the rear of the house, he spoke for the first time since we had stepped out of the patrol car, and it had been to himself, "Of course."

Turning to face me, Dick continued, "He's… he's probably going to be scared of you, considering… he takes things personally… but, after we set the record straight, it should be okay."

There was an odd look in his tired eyes.

An old look, one that had no business being on a young man's face.

I nodded slightly before clearing my throat, "How… How is he? I mean, at the restaurant I only saw him walking…"

Dick smirked and looked to the door once more, "He's like a teenager. Wants his independence but isn't quite ready for it. He has a pretty solid grasp on things, just not the maturity."

"Never figured him to be mature to begin with," I countered.

Dick replied, "True… instead of fighting over him risking his life recklessly, now he wants to stay up passed ten." He knocked softly on the door and called out, "Bruce, you in here?"

I smiled when a faint reply came from within, "No."

Dick hesitated before opening the door slowly to an ocean of darkness. I had been in that particular room only once before, lost during a Wayne Foundation dinner. I had been quick to realize that it wasn't the bathroom but rather than instantly return to my search, I had hesitated. The study was as lavish as any billionaire's but it was the personal items that had caught me off guard. The oil portrait of the late Dr. and Mrs. Wayne above the fireplace, the suit coat and necktie hanging from the back of the desk chair and day's paper partially folded on the end table between two leather chairs.

A glimpse at the man behind the name and lore.

Nothing compared to the glimpse I had gotten in the backseat of a BPD patrol car…

Stepping in after Dick, I found the study to be nearly as it was all those years ago. Bruce was sitting in one of the leather chairs with his back to us, intently staring down at something in his lap.

Without looking up, he spoke, "I want to be alone."

"I know, Bruce… but we need to talk about what happened today."

"I don't want to."

Dick paused just behind the chair, looking over his shoulder at me as I came to stand behind him, "Life's full of things you don't want to do…" he paused as he resumed walking, coming around in front of the chair before kneeling , "But you have to."

I stepped up as well, trying to control my breathing as I stopped just behind the chair. In the car, I had wanted nothing but to see him, speak with him and with the opportunity before me, I was filled with uncertainty. As Dick resumed talking with Bruce, I chanced a look down to see what had him captivated.

A photo album.

Bruce turned the page, ignoring Dick's words. The pictures were of a young, black-haired boy sitting on the broad shoulders of a tall man with a dark moustache at what appeared to be Robinson Park.

Memories he had lost forever.

It was difficult to accept that he had no memory of the life he once lived. Not the lives he saved or killers he brought to justice. His allies and enemies. Our friendship.

When Dick looked up at me and sighed, Bruce tensed before looking behind him as well. Rather than flinch or show any sign of fear, he simply returned his gaze to the pictures. With my presence known, I managed to walk around, taking a seat in the chair next to him. I nearly smirked upon realizing that he kept looking over at me from the corner of his eyes, thinking he hadn't lost his reliance on peripheral vision.

Finding my voice once more, I said, "What I did was wrong. But a father will do anything to protect his children, often acting before thinking. I thought that you… I don't know what I thought."

Bruce smiled slightly, "I don't know what I think half the time, either." He turned the page and I looked over to see the day in the park and given way to Halloween. A boy in a skeleton costume stood in front of a man dressed as Zorro who had his arm around a woman dressed as an Egyptian princess. I squinted and made out feminine cursive: Brucie's First Halloween Ball, age six!

"Bruce, I am so sorry…" my voice came out strained and pathetic.

He closed the book slowly, gently tracing the edges of the leather binding, "You're right… fathers protect their children," pausing to look up at me, "No matter what."

When my eyes caught the look on Dick's face, I thought to myself, And children protect their fathers… no matter what.

^V^

After Cass kicked me in the side of the head, I recovered, ducked and lunged at her midsection.

Fruitless, considering she knew what my move was going to be before I had.

Not up to spending the afternoon in the Cave by myself, I had made the trek into the city after lying to my father and telling him I was going to a lecture on how to prepare for college. Instead, I had jogged Robinson Park, treated myself to a lime Sno-cone from a vender near the playground and then had proceeded to the Clocktower.

A nice, friendly spar with the daughter and star pupil of one of the world's greatest assassins.

Yeah… something like that.

As Cass wiped the training mats with my face for the better part of an hour, I did my best to focus on the physical challenge of it in order to drown out my thoughts. After nearly four months, I had reasoned that I should have accepted how things had changed in the Family. Dick was no longer Nightwing, he was Batman and with that came the expected changes on our nightly routines. No more Punch Buggy game, no more el-train tag and the comm. link was for business, not That's What She Said jokes.

We had to grow up sometime.

I just wasn't ready.

Deep down, I had come to realize that it wasn't Dick's new role that was bothering me.

It had been Bruce's.

At first, I had been able to go up to the Manor and spend time with him, helping with his rehabilitation. For some reason, towards the beginning of July, I found that the thought of being there with him had begun to feel like being with a stranger. As much as I had missed the juvenile antics Dick and I had once shared, I longed for the stern looks and low growls of my former mentor even more.

Alfred tried to corral us up each week for dinner but I had intentionally missed four out of the last seven.

Seeing the soft smile on Bruce's face and the scar on his forehead nearly brought tears to my eyes.

Retreating a step for every one of her vicious jabs, I smirked while preparing to block the impending roundhouse I expected Cass to throw. Naturally, she had realized my assumption and spiced things up with an uppercut sending me spinning face first into the matted wall.

"Can't assume," she sighed, "Ass. You. Me."

"Yeah, I got it," I replied while rubbing the hot pink flesh of my right cheek.

"No, you don't," she countered, crossing her arms over her chest. We had been at it for an hour and she hadn't even broken a sweat. After she appraised my condition, she offered, "Take five?"

"Advil," I joked. Cass's left eyebrow rose in confusion and I shook my head, "Never mind."

She rolled her eyes, a trait she had notably picked up from living with Barbara and proceeded to exit the training room and head towards the main apartment. I nabbed a towel off of a shelving unit and wiped myself down before following her. By the time I caught up, she was already in the kitchen, uncapping a liter bottle of spring water. After perusing the refrigerator, I settled for a more manageable half-liter.

Before I could ask Cass what she had done that day, aside from kicking my ass, Barbara entered the open archway, shaking her head.

"What's up?"

A smile crossed her lips momentarily before she answered, "My father saw Bruce and Selina having a late lunch… saw them holding hands… I guess he was under the assumption that he had been dating me since we've been together so much…" she finally let a laugh loose, "Dick said he walked right over to them and punched Bruce in the face."

I looked over to Cass as she said, "Assume. Ass. You. Me."

"What did Selina do?" I was quick to ask.

She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, "Thankfully she kept her cool, Alfred had been on the way to pick them up so he took Bruce while she stayed to help sort things over once Dick got there."

"They called Dick?"

Barbara continued, "He was doing a prisoner transfer, ended up cutting short on his shift to take Selina and my dad up to the Manor to talk. Dick said Selina rode shotgun, made my dad sit in the back."

That brought a smile to my lips.

"On a more serious note," she tried to contain her grin, "Dick decided that it would be best, for us and for my father if he knew why Bruce didn't recognize him at the restaurant and why he's been with me so much."

Cass spoke softly, "Truth."

As Barbara nodded, I set my water down, "Wait, Dick told him the truth?"

"Not all of it… he only told Dad about him and Bruce… but with two pieces of the puzzle, he's more than capable of filling in the blanks."

I felt insulted and was quick to voice it, "How could he do that, without asking us? It's our lives, not just his---."

Barbara cut me off, her tone severe enough to send a chill down my spine, "If anyone deserves to be told the truth, it's my father. He's been fighting this war since before you were born, I advise you not to forget that." When I remained in silent shock, she relaxed and added, "I'm sorry, Tim… it's for the best. And besides, he is the closest thing to a best friend that Bruce ever had… it wasn't right for us to lie to him."

She said something about Dick being by in a few hours before excusing herself.

Alone, I looked to Cass, wondering how she felt about the latest addition to the Family.

Just as she read my body language, she appeared to be able to read my mind. After emptying her water bottle, she said, "It's okay. Commissioner good man. Batman respect him. Trust him. We all should."

It was the truth. Batman respected and trusted him.

The both of them.

^V^

At ten after five, the Bludhaven police car pulled out of the drive of Wayne Manor.

Within it was Dick and Gordon, making the trek back to Gotham after spending a nearly an hour in the study talking with Bruce. After I had found Alfred tending to duties in the laundry room, I had returned to the study only to find that it was more than occupied. Not wanting to interrupt the male bonding, I opted on retreating to the seclusion of the third floor.

More specifically, Bruce's bedroom.

Since he had been shot, I had been in the room nearly two dozen times, namely only to open the door and look inside for Bruce. Seeing how I had some time to myself, I had allowed myself a quick stroll down memory lane. Breakfast on the terrace, sharing baths in the massive tub, trying to outdo one another in his bed… Given that the past was long over, I had come to realize that I was in a life with the present man. Sometimes, my subconscious forgot about it and had me trying to reconnect with someone who wasn't there.

Like in the kitchen, massaging his tense shoulders as I had done a thousand times before. Past Bruce would have fought to contain moans and sighs of relief while Present Bruce had been visibly uncomfortable.

It was the little things that seemed to cause so much pain.

Finding myself getting worked up in his room, I left it for the sitting room across the hall. My belongings that had accumulated prior to the shooting had been moved there for safe keeping. The last thing Bruce needed an explanation for was why there was women's underwear in his dresser drawer.

I decided to change into casual attire given that the remainder of the evening was to be spent indoors and in the confines of Wayne Manor. No doubt it would be some time before I was able to kidnap Bruce away for another outing…

After meditating, stretching exercises and a brief catnap on a chaise, I heard a soft rap on the door. If I hadn't been four months pregnant, I would have been polite and risen to my feet to answer the door. Instead, I cordially called out, "Who dares disturb my slumber?"

Dick's head snuck into the partially ajar door, "It is I… Aladdin."

After nodding in approval, I watched him step into the room and walk over to me. Pausing at the head of the chaise, he resumed, "We patched everything up… Bruce seems to be okay with what happened… although Bruce asked me how he made you pregnant, so thanks for that."

I smirked before inquiring, "Did you tell him?"

Dick sighed, "No… I think today has been eventful enough… and I think you should tell him."

I glared at him.

He cleared his throat, "I'll tell him tomorrow. After breakfast."

After telling me that Alfred was preparing dinner and that he was heading out the commissioner, I asked, "Where's Bruce?"

"Changing… I won't be back up tonight, so if you need a ride home, I'm sure Alfred can---."

I cut him off as I rose to my feet, "I think I'll just stay here tonight… little sleepiover to make up for today."

Before leaving he commented, "You do realize Alfred will make you sleep in separate rooms."

I countered with, "Who said anything about sleeping?"

Dick snickered to himself as he stepped into hall.

I waited for Bruce outside of his bedroom door, startling him when he opened it. He had traded the suit for jeans and a dark blue fitted polo, the casual look that he had taken to in recent months. To appease him, I smiled warmly and asked, "Care to take a girl to dinner? I hear Chef Alfred has something divine on the menu."

Bruce smirked nervously before nodding, "My pleasure."

As we walked towards the stairs, I instinctively reached out and took hi hand into mine. Rather than recoil, he squeezed my fingers gently.

It was the little things that seemed to cause so much joy.

We arrived at the dining room to see two places set next to each other with a white candle flickering softly on the table. Rich aromas wafted off of the steaming plates of stuffed manicotti, heightened by tweaks of garlic and parmigiano-reggiano.

I had expected Bruce to be tense through dinner given what he had endured in the last few hours. Instead he was inquisitive about the baby and if that had been why I had been under the weather last month. A detective to his core.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asked with a spot of arrabiatta sauce on his lip.

Drowning the urge to lick it off, I simply pointed it out for him and answered as he wiped it with a napkin, "I don't know… I want it to be a surprise."

He smirked before replying, "I like surprises."

After dinner, we decided to ignore Alfred's rule of not being in the kitchen without him in order to clean up after ourselves. Given that we were two somewhat capable adults, I had no doubts that we would be able to wash, dry and put dishes away without bringing any ahrm upon Alfred's sanctuary.

I barely washed a spoon before things turned ugly.

Who knew that the scrub sponge was too rough for the ceramic and that it would scratch it slightly?

And it was Bruce who bent the spoon to show how strong he was.

And he was the one who started the soap fight.

… and I was the one who finished it.

^V^


	11. Time Will Tell: X

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been modified form its original version to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

Somehow, it was the first of November.

Somehow, Bruce Wayne was back in the corporate world.

Somehow, a woman was living next door for the first time since Martha Wayne.

And yet, Dick still wore the guise of Batman, Bruce had yet to remember anything outside of the little inconsequential sparks and I was still doing my damndest to avoid him.

Some Robin I was…

Barbara says we had to admire his overcoming so many obstacles in such a short time. Of course I had, it was a miracle that he had gone from a vegetative state to a completely functioning adult human being in less than five months. No doubt it was his innate, self-driven personality that had steered such a fast course. But the problem remained that he was acting like a regular adult.

Not the fop by any means, as the smiles that graced his face were genuine, but some other person that had taken up residence in my former mentor's body.

Regular adults weren't able to send a group of assailants running home to their mother's with a single look. They wouldn't know how to calculate a free jump off of Wayne Tower or the best way to take down six to ten assailants with the least amount of energy exerted. Or how to track down international megalomaniacs or translating the most subtle of clues such as chair out of place or a door that was ajar.

I had spent nearly as much time at Bruce's side as Dick and Barbara, who have been under his wing for over a decade, but I had idolized Batman for just as long. He was the world's greatest detective and in a way the world's greatest hero given all that he had faced and survived without the luxury of superhuman powers or abilities. He was a mortal man with a promise he intended on keeping until his dying breath.

To avenge the deaths of his mother and father.

He wasn't my father, not like he was to Dick.

I still had mine.

And yet Dick, and even Barbara, Alfred, Selina and Leslie were happy to see him in such a state, so deflated from the man he once was.

That, above all else, kept me from wanting to go to Wayne Manor. It wasn't that I hated who he had become, it was that I hated myself for thinking of him the way I had. Thinking he was less of a man when in fact he was more than I ever would be.

Again, some Robin I was…

"Bird boy, you out there?" Oracle's voice chimed over the comm. link.

"For the most part," I cleared my throat as I shook my head, clearing away bad thoughts, "What's up?"

I heard a smile in her voice, "I need a guinea pig."

Deciding to drop my dismal attitude, I asked, "For what? New bean casserole recipe?"

"Very funny. Tall, dark and gloomy broke in last night and I decided to spruce up the countermeasures a bit."

"And you want me to try them out for you. I must be loved…"

"There's a Klondike bar in it for you."

"If I live."

"Well, naturally."

After ten minutes of grappling lines and acrobatics, I landed silently on the fire escape that crawled up the back of the Clocktower. Taking two steps at a time, I went up three floors before knocking on a darkened bedroom door. The plan was to actually talk to Barbara before risking life and limb. That and to sneak into the kitchen for my reward.

I tapped three short times, and finally the dark-haired face of Cassandra appeared, "Get lost?"

"Funny, let me in, it's cold."

Shutting the window behind me, I proceeded to double-checked the lock before turning to face Cassandra. It wasn't until then that I realized I had knocked on Cassandra's bedroom, which had been the former guest room a week earlier. When I looked at her, she shrugged, "Wanted bigger room. To Tai Chi."

I wanted a bigger room so I could have a couch and entertainment area.

It was odd to see her in a domestic setting while wearing her suit, the full cowl pulled back to hang between her shoulders. When she turned to lead the way to Oracle, her cape flowed behind her, the material slightly lighter than the one I wore. Bruce had altered it for her, giving her less resistance when she made her way through foes at lightning speed.

As we walked, I asked, "So, what are you doing here?"

"Try out security. For Oracle."

"How was it?"

She looked at me over her shoulder before replying, "Not bad. Made it through okay."

Of course she had.

After hesitating outside the secret entrance, invisible to the naked eye along a corridor wall. The pressure sensors on the hardwood floor had sent a message into Barbara that we had arrived and no doubt after checking a hidden camera, she had let us enter. Not as stylish as the grandfather clock in Wayne Manor, but distinctly impressive as the wall split, intussuscepting into itself.

Made me feel like a Jedi every time.

"Robin, how nice of you to make it. We were thinking some old lady hit you with her purse or something…" Barbara joked as she sat up right in her chair, turning to face me.

I had stopped a mugging on Halloween, saving an elderly woman from a masked moron. She had lost her glasses in the scuffle and when I had returned them to her, she had promptly beat me over the head with her cane, thinking I had been the one to assault her.

Not one of my greater moments.

Later that night, when I had checked in with Batman, he had smirked briefly before acknowledging my efforts. Had he been Nightwing, he would have laughed himself silly when he found out. Oracle had apparently been listening in to our conversation and had been quick to recount when a much younger Dick Grayson had "squeaked while talking to the commissioner."

Maybe I was some Robin, after all.

^V^

After sending Cass back to the streets, I had Tim make his way back outside so that he could then attempt to break in through the lower floors of the building. I had in fact updated security parameters and modified countermeasures with Dick's help over the last few weeks but the changes had already been tested thoroughly.

And it wasn't that I wanted to torture Tim for no reason.

Dick had asked me to.

As the young man made his way through air ducts, empty corridors and through floorboards, I was impressed that he was able to do so without setting off any of the tasers, tear gas ducts or the epoxy sprayers. In fact, he made it back to the monitoring chamber having only set of three out of dozens of motion sensors.

As he passed into the room for the second time that night, Robin sighed, "Whew, much rather play James Bond on Playstation, not real life… and were those flame throwers on the tenth floor?"

I nodded, my eyes never leaving the monitors, "Only enough heat to singe off every hair on your body."

"Only…" he remarked, "Thanks, but I just got my hair---."

When his words failed him, I turned around to face him, suddenly realizing why he had stopped mid-sentence.

"What's everyone staring at? Did I forget to zip my fly?" Nightwing asked as he finished passing through the window. He paused beside his younger ally, setting a hand on his shoulder, "Breathe, kid."

Robin let out air and asked, "What's going on?"

"What, guy can't wear something fancy on a Friday night?"

Something was going on. Why had he donned the old suit? He had worn the guise of Batman all of this time since Bruce had been shot, it made no sense to simply pull out the long neglected black and blue tights. He looked to me as he let go of Robin and had I not looked for it, I would have missed the microsecond of a wink form his eye.

Something was seriously going on.

"Where's Batgirl?" Nightwing asked. When I checked the radar and reported she was touring Robinson Park, he nodded, "Why don't you check out Coventry, I haven't been through there yet tonight?"

Robin looked to me, back to the oddly garbed man before us and then nodded, "Uh, sure…"

Once we were alone, Dick removed the domino mask on his face and walked over, a smile I hadn't seen in months forming on his lips. "So, Babs, how have you been?"

"Since I talked to you two hours ago?"

"Yeah," he replied. I watched as he sat on a stack of printouts, instantly squishing them and wrinkling the fresh paper. After a prompt swat at his rear, he jumped up, "Sorry."

"… All night you've been growling at me in… that voice…"

"Affirmative," Dick nodded as he took to simply leaning against the edge of my work station counter

"… and have you been dressed like this all night?"

"Well, not all night, I was wearing a disguise to get some leads at that shady tavern in the Village---."

I cut him off, "What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" he questioned with a smug look.

"Um, let's start with the obvious," I replied as I tugged at his glove.

After offering a shrug, he followed it up with an explanation, "Alfred's fixing the other one. Little scratch from last night."

"You said you were fine," I countered, although it sounded more like an accusation. He had radioed in to me the night before that he was going to take a few minutes to have Leslie stitch something up and that he was "fine". After a late night call to the Free Clinic, I had discovered that Dick had been clipped by a stray bullet, in addition to a few assorted bumps and bruises. To be fair, I had offered sidekicks as back-ups when he attempted to subdue a band enforcers for one of Gotham's seedy drug dealers.

He had abruptly growled a decline.

Served him right.

Dick looked to his right arm and touched the bicep tenderly, "It's not bad… fourteen stitches… good thing I'm uber muscle-y… barely put a dent in me."

I nodded in false empathy, "You do realize you have extra suits, right?"

"I know. But driving all the way to the Manor would mean going there and not seeing Bruce and I didn't want to wake him… Besides, I miss the old black and blue."

"So you're just too lazy and/or sentimental to just wear an extra?" I asked.

"You know me so well…"

I laughed at his quirky face, "Dick, when are you ever going to grow up?"

He laughed as well, falling silent for a moment as he watched me resume my work at the keyboards. Then, "Babs, what do you think about the baby?"

Without hesitation, I replied, "Well, I'm happy for them… I mean I know it's something that would have been far more complicated had he not been… but… It's good for both of them..." I hesitated before looking up at him, "For all of us."

"Maybe I should have a baby, so I can be mature…" he joked as he patted his flat stomach.

"Who will be the father?"

He snickered before saying, "Good question… Maybe I shouldn't, I don't like to change diapers."

"Well, I'm sure you'll get to change plenty on your baby brother or sister."

"I am not a babysitter."

"Oh, that's right. I am."

"Can I stay up late?" he asked.

"Did you finish your homework?"

"Uh…"

"Back to work, young man," I said as I tapped on the monitor mapping Gotham's streets in green and red.

Before donning his mask, he leaned over and kissed my cheek, "You're the best babysitter I've ever had, Babs."

"I better the only one."

He grinned, "Well, there's Alfred but he doesn't look nearly as good as you do in a black lycra tank top."

^V^

"Selina?"

Nothing.

"Did you hear that?" I asked while sitting up.

"Mhmmmuh," she groaned as she rolled away from me.

I listened to silence, and then detected faint voices once more.

A gust of wind rustled against the windows as I looked at the bedside clock. It was just after three in the morning, certainly Alfred wasn't up, not would there be any visitors. I had shut the stereo before we had gone to bed at ten… Was it a dream?

Selina moaned again, her hand snaking under the blankets and pushing on my thigh.

I was just about to lie back down but as the wind died down, I heard the voices again.

When I tried to wake Selina again, she growled something and buried herself under the covers.

Shortly after Selina had told me I was the father of her unborn child, we had decided it would be best if she moved in to live at the Manor. Alfred had suggested she take up residence in the quarters across from the master bedroom but Selina had been quick to decline.

She had replied, a hand on her swollen abdomen, "I think it's a little late to be modest, Alfred."

Although before anyone moved anywhere, Alfred had said that Dick needed to sit down with me and talk about a "certain matters."

More specifically, about babies.

Dick had explained the "birds and the bees" twice, first by making refere4nces to hotel metaphors and then once more with the straightforward approach. It had seemed odd that he had tried to placate me with the sugar coated version of things the first time around. When I asked him where he had heard that, his face turned red, "Well, it's what you told me after I asked about girls the first time." Even though I had no memory of it, I had to laugh at thought of myself being just as nervous and embarrassed, talking to a much younger Dick Grayson.

The next day, Tim and Dick had helped Selina move some of her belongings into the Manor, leaving a majority of her furniture behind. I had asked Alfred why she hadn't simply sold her apartment and he had explained that an independent woman needed a place to herself if it was needed.

"An independent woman?"

"Yes, Master Bruce, of which the very definition is Ms. Selina… motherhood has brought about docility in her, sir, but she is like… a cat. And cat chooses when and where to go and who she will go with. Much like your former self, Master Bruce."

My former self…

After a long afternoon of helping her unpack clothing closet and watching her add a few personal touches to the bedroom itself, we had decided to take a nap on the bed together. Laying on the covers, I had reclined onto my back and she had situated herself beside me, resting her head on my chest with an arm across my abdomen. Although earlier that year, I had been anxious over physical contact, it hadn't been long until I had grown accustomed to it.

"So… heard you had a nice chat with Dick today," she had said softly.

"Uh… I guess."

She had looked up at me, "Anything you didn't understand?"

"Aside from all of it?"

Selina had laughed before pushing herself up to look at me, "Well, to be fair, most sons never have to tell their fathers about that."

Feeling a flush creep over my cheeks, I had replied, "Yeah, he seemed pretty uncomfortable about it… but... we had a few laughs, too."

"Good to hear," she had smirked before biting her lower lip. After a moment, Selina had continued, "Well, you ever want try your hand at it, you let me know."

The slight flush had gone full blown, encompassing my ears as well, "Oh… Okay."

"No rush," she had kissed my cheek before settling back down beside me.

No rush.

A good plan, a smart one.

One that had lasted about an hour...

The voices drifting in and out of my hearing, I finally gave up on sleep and kissed Selina's brow before rising from the bed. Donning my robe, I quietly opened the door before quickly walking towards the stairs. Descending them, the voices became louder and I realized they belonged to Alfred and Dick.

Reaching the main floor, I caught a flash of a shadow and followed it and the voices down the north corridor. Turning after the kitchen, I heard the study's door shut, drawing me towards it. Opening it, I expected to find Dick and Alfred having an odd late night talk but instead found an empty, dark room. I was just about to turn and leave when there was a soft click on the far side of the room. More specifically, the antique Grandfather clock, carved of Redwood with brass hands and a marble face. It never clicked, in fact it was silent unless it was chiming at the hour.

The numbers were set at a little before eleven.

"Must be broken…" I muttered and went to touch the hour hand when I noticed the faintest crack of light coming from the rear of the clock. I glanced around and saw no other light sources. Stepping closer, I touched the light beam only to find a gap between the wall and the clock, one that disappeared after another click, the clock moving a fraction of an inch.

Just as I was about to try and move the clock back when Selina's voice called out, "Bruce what are you doing?"

I jumped, "Nothing, I… I heard voices and followed them in here…"

After yawning, she crossed the dimly lit room and embraced one of my arms, leading me away from the clock, "It was just a dream, come back to bed."

Looking back to the clock, I sighed in defeat. Perhaps I could figure out what was wrong with that old clock in the morning…

We returned to bed and climbed under the covers in an attempt to rebuild the lost body heat that evaporated in our absence. I felt her fingers trace the muscles of my forearm before reaching for my hand, taking it to rest the palm atop of our child.

My son.

Or daughter.

Selina kept saying it was a girl even though we had yet to learn the truth from her doctor.

Although I teased her, all I wanted was a healthy baby.

In two months, I would be father.

And maybe, someday, a husband…

A sudden jerk beneath her flesh causes me to lift my hand away from her. She was quick to say, "She is a little feisty tonight."

"Doesn't it hurt you?" I asked as I replaced my hand.

"After seven months of this, Bruce, the only thing that will hurt me is when she checks out of the hotel."

Rubbing her stomach gently, I felt a few more kicks and then finally peace. I asked, both of them, "Are you sleeping?"

She moaned, "Mhm-hmm."

"What's behind the clock? Is it like a room?"

Her eyes opened then fluttered closed again, "Morning, kay?"

I nodded. She was right, it was late and she was tired. I kissed her brow once more, "Good night, Selina."

She yawned before softly muttering, " 'Night, Bats."

^V^


	12. Time Will Tell: XI

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been modified to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

Staring intently at his crepes, Master Bruce sighed for the third time that morning.

A distinct sigh, one that differed from those that indicated his frustration or exhaustion. It had sounded fairly close to that depicting he was confused but did not want to directly ask for clarification. I had heard the particular sigh many times in the course of the last six months as he steadily progressed over the countless obstacles of his rehabilitation. Where it had been prominent early on in his rehabilitation, the sound hadn't passed through his lips in at least two weeks.

"Is there something amiss, sir?" I inquired.

The sigh came once more before he replied, "No."

Of which meant yes.

I finished drying a glass bowl, returned it to the cupboard and approached him, "Master Bruce, I fear I cannot go on with my day with you in such a dismal mood."

"I'm not dismal. Just… confused."

"About what, sir?"

His icy eyes finally rose to meet my face. After a brief hesitation, he asked, "Who was here last night?"

"Just myself, you and Ms. Kyle."

"I know, but later... Really late."

"Really late, sir, I was slumbering, as were you both."

"No. I was awake."

I felt my pulse quicken slightly, "Sir, perhaps it was a dream---."

He was quick to cut me off, "No, I heard voices… I heard you and I know it was Dick… And I followed them to the study but when I went in, you weren't there."

It was my turn to sigh, "Sir, what doesn't make sense."

Master Bruce pushed his plate away and stood. Before I could repeat my question he began to pace about the marble floor, "And the clock was broken, and it clicked and I could have sworn it moved… and the light coming from the wall…"

"The wall, sir?"

His face curled with frustration, "Not exactly… behind the grandfather clock. I went to reset the time and I saw… There was light coming from behind… What's behind it?"

"I'm not sure I understand what you are saying, sir."

He drew a breath and then turned, "Neither do I, Alfred."

It was once he had left the kitchen that I physically allowed myself to shudder. Master Dick and Master Timothy had arrived at the Cave nearly a quarter after three; both scratched and bruised from ending a late night bank robbery. Although injured, they were both in high spirits, trying to out do each other with horrid "Robin tales of woe" as they called them. Rather than immediately getting to work on logging their activities, they had decided to make their way upstairs for a bite to eat.

Naturally, I had been quick to offer my hand in the kitchen, more so to prevent their unsupervised culinary antics than simple servitude. Given how light-natured they had been in the Cave, I wasn't surprised to see their dispositions further improve upon reaching the ground floor of the Manor, especially with a late night snack on the way. It was as they snacked on cucumber spears whilst I prepared grilled ham and cheese sandwiches that I finally had inquired as to what the occasion had been.

Master Dick had smirked before replying, "Well, you know I left that suit here for you to mend, right?"

I had nodded slightly, "Of which is ready for your next venture."

Master Tim had snickered while patting the bandaged wound on his ally's shoulder, "Good thing?"

"And why is that?"

They both went silent for a moment before laughing in unison.

"I must say, given the hour, young sirs, I am in no mood for a mystery."

Master Dick finally relented, "Well, I figured it would be nice to put on the old black and blue tights… had ourselves quite the evening welcoming Nightwing back."

The youngest had nodded before gently touching his bruised brow, "Certainly did."

As they had feasted, both replayed the events of the evening, relishing in their exuberant crime fighting endeavors from the evening. The laughter, both vocal and in their blue eyes, had been well worth the interruption of my night's sleep.

Their talking must have woken Master Bruce…

I suddenly realized that Master Bruce had been intently staring at me, rather than his uneaten breakfast. After clearing my throat, I offered, "I assure you Master Bruce, there is nothing to worry about… aside from my wrath if that plate isn't cleared."

He nodded in response and after a heavy sigh, he slowly began to eat.

It had been a decision of Master Dick not to inform Master Bruce of his nocturnal past, at least for the time being. It was impossible for him to regain all the knowledge that was required to bear the mantle, let alone the memories of what that life had entailed. True, Master Bruce had a considerable amount to fret over given Ms. Selina's moving in to the Manor as well as the fast approaching birth of their child, but it still pained me to lie to him.

He had dedicated his entire life to his war on crime, was it right to deny him the truth?

Or should he have to live with the knowledge that he had lost everything to the cowl?

Just as I was about to ask what Master Bruce had intended to do for the day, Ms. Selina passed through the open kitchen doorway, wearing calf length sweatpants and a snug tee-shirt given she was in her third trimester. I smiled to see she also sported Master Bruce's loafers.

After I greeted her, with a smile and a cup of lemon zinger tea, she took a seat on the stool beside Master Bruce, kissing his cheek before stealing a piece of his whole grain toast.

Save for the swell of her abdomen, I had witnessed such a scene countless times. Before he had been shot by Pasqualle, he would have remarked, "That was mine."

She would have countered by stealing his coffee or piece of fruit and a purr, "Are you calling me a thief?"

On one occasion, I recalled that Master Bruce had replied, "Well, to be fair…"

She had promptly smashed a wedge of orange, rind and all, into his mouth.

Although the verbal and physical exchange didn't happen that morning, I was pleased to see the scene before me nonetheless.

^V^

Given I was just getting ready to go to bed at half past seven, getting a communication request from the Watchtower had brought a muted curse to my lips. I redid my exhausted ponytail before accepting, somewhat put off to see the tense, square jaw and worried blue eyes on the other end. After all, those blue eyes had the ability to see through walls and lies alike.

"Good morning, Clark."

He nodded, appearing to be alone in the monitor womb, "Barbara… Is this a bad time?"

I should have said yes but instead answered, "Never a bad time… what's up?"

Even though I could see the stylized S over his chest and the red cape dangling over his shoulders, he was very much Clark Kent given the doubt in his expression. He cleared his throat before saying, "Well, I was… just… checking in, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, I was just wondering… Listen, I know Dick's still filling in for Bruce, but it's been six months. The last time he was down for that long was after Bane, and that whole mess, I mean, it's not like he was that open about how badly he was injured… I'm just worried is all."

Lying to Clark wasn't one of my favorite past times, even though it had been for Bruce. He was an honest man who wanted nothing more than to do what he could to help, no matter what the situation. Despite all the upheavals they had faced, I knew Clark regarded Bruce as a close friend, outside of being a highly regarded colleague.

Thankfully, Bruce had already been on reserve status with the Justice League prior to the shooting in May so his presence wasn't as noticeably absent. I had managed to pass on attmepts Clark and the others had made to get in touch with Bruce, saying he wasn't available or that he simply didn't want to talk, neither of which were actual lies. Clark had offered to drop by several times over the last six months but the ruse of Bruce being off touring the world had managed to delay a reunion.

Something in the pit of my stomach said that Clark was done being played the fool.

When we ahd originally realized the severity of Bruce's condition upon waking from the coma, it had been a difficult decision to make as to who would know the truth. Regrettably, Dick had decided that my father and Selina were not included. After Selina had found out she was pregnant and my father had assumed I was dating Bruce Wayne, he had done his best to undo his errors by telling them the truth. I had hoped that afterwards, he would be more willing to explain things to at least the higher standing members of the League but he hadn't. Instead of simply telling the truth, he had decided to maintain the guise of Batman, and only recently that Nightwing should pop up every now and then as well.

"Relax, Clark. He's just not ready."

Despite the conviction in my voice, Clark didn't seem to buy it, "Want me to give him a pep talk?"

"Do you want to give him a pep talk?"

He sighed heavily before proceeding, "Barbara, I would like to see him, even if it's just to see how he's doing."

"Clark, you know how he is."

"Enlighten me, Barbara. I know he was shot but that was six months ago. Usually he's back meaner than ever the next night," he paused and stared at me, "How bad was it?"

I didn't answer him.

"Barbara?"

Finally I replied, "You take three bullets like he did and it can be a while for things to heal. Physically, mentally, emotionally."

Something sharpened in Clark's steely blue eyes before he spoke, "Never knew him to be emotional. Not about some random thug shooting him."

"It's more than that, Clark… I'm sorry, but… seeing him right now isn't in anyone's best interest."

I expected him to protest but instead he simply nodded and ended the transmission.

After a moment, I picked up the phone and dialed the Bludhaven Police Department, promptly being greeted by a rushed voice, "Grayson, Bludhaven PD."

"Wasn't that charming," I replied.

I heard the smile in his voice, "Fine. Good morning, citizen. I am Officer Dick. How may I improve your morning through the benefactors of modern police work?"

"Much better, Officer Dick," I laughed. I then allowed the my tone to grow serious, "so clark called again."

"Oh?" Dick replied over the clatter of keys and someone shouting in the background, "What did he want?"

"Same thing he always wants."

"To talk to Bruce…" he sighed. After a long pause, he finally continued, "Okay… I'll give him a ring later… Maybe… maybe it's time, you know?"

It was long over due time but I didn't say so, "I think Bruce is ready… I mean, he's capable of going to work to play the Fop, certainly it's not that far of a reach to explain to him that he has a BFF in Metropolis that's a investigative reporter."

"BFF… wow. Babs, I've never thought of them like that."

"To be fair, Clark did give Bruce a ring, albeit a Kryptonite ring."

Dick laughed at that, "This is true… all right, I'll call Clark, invite him up this week… talk things over with him before letting him talk to Bruce…"

I nodded as I commented, "See, I learned from messing things up with my Dad… no punching this time."

"Now where's the fun in that?"

^V^

After having part of Bruce's breakfast in addition to my own, I had treated myself to an hour of yoga, twenty minutes in the sauna and then a much needed bubble bath. Given that most of the morning I had spent in solitude, I had invited Bruce to bathe with me but he had looked away and quickly made up something he needed to take care of at that moment.

It would have been cute to see him bothered by nudity had it not been heart-wrenchingly sad.

Granted, my presence at the Manor had done wonders for his inexcusable aversion to physical contact, he was still wary of being intimate. Upon learning about the birds and the bees from a very embarrassed Dick Grayson a few months back, I had made certain that Bruce know there was nothing to be ashamed of and that I was willing when he was ready. His first excuse had been that I was pregnant and he didn't want to hurt the baby. After I had assured him that he wouldn't, he had been quick to say he didn't want to do it wrong and make me hate him.

After kissing him, I had promised, "There is nothing you could do to make me hate you, Bruce."

"Are you sure? I mean, I could step on your toe or put gum in your hair?" he had joked nervously.

"You've been spending way too much time with Dick and Tim."

Our first time, many years ago, had been a fast, near violent coupling at a social function. We had been eyeing each other, as Bruce and Selina, for some time although he always had an excuse to bail on me at the last minute. Little did I know at the time that it was to don the cowl and become the man I continued to tease and taunt after putting on my own mask. Needless to say, the compounded frustration of both Selina and Catwoman had me locking Bruce Wayne in an office at the LaFrenz family's penthouse.

Whilst the elite of Gotham were dancing, wining and dining in the name of diabetes fund raising, I was burying my face into Bruce's chest while he pinned me down on a desk.

Not many couples get a second chance at a first time.

Rather than frustration, there was apprehension. In the months leading up to the shooting, Bruce and I had been doing our best to make up for years of lost time and sexual tension. We had even been forced to take our antics to Wayne Manor following a dissatisfied note that had been taped to my penthouse door one morning. It was no wonder, really, that we had ended up pregnant.

Where our first time at that fundraiser had been an expression of lust, the second first time had been nothing but love. Surely, Bruce had loved me before the shooting, but without Batman in his life, he seemed to have that much more dedication to me and he certainly showed it. I had always been second in his eyes to the war on crime and being his top priority was something to behold.

"Like a bicycle," I had panted after he lost his virginity for the second time.

"What?"

"It's like riding a bicycle, even though it has been a while, once you get back on you remember how to ride it."

Bruce had nodded, his face flushed and eyes dilated. After a beat, he had replied, "Felt much better than riding a bicycle. Don't like the seat."

I had swatted him with a pillow.

Since then, we had become more like our old selves than I thought possible. The banter was there, the smirks, everything. There were days, and nights, when I was able to convince myself that nothing had changed. I stole his food and his pillows. He made odd remarks to rile me to the point of hitting him or kissing him. He complained when I wanted to do nothing for an afternoon and I always made it worthwhile.

Nothing had changed… even the nightmares.

They certainly were not as bad as they had once been, but nearly every night I would wake to hear him talking softly and his limbs moving. After squeezing his hand or rubbing his shoulder, he would grow still more times than not. On bad nights, I would wake him, often resulting in him lurching up in bed with a gasp. The horrors that plagued his foggy mind were no doubt the very makings of nightmares.

Fresh from the tub, I dried off, applied cocoa butter to my expanding stomach and then touched up my nails with a fresh coat of clear polish. Although the day had nothing set in stone, I wanted to be ready, physically and mentally. Still in my robe, hair precariously wrapped in a towel on my head, I toured the walk-in closet, selecting four possible outfits. My designer wardrobe had been put on hold as sweat pants, maternity jeans and ill fitting tops took charge. Even my footwear had been assaulted, no longer wearing strappy high heels but sneakers and even flip flops and Ace bandages when my ankles were too swollen.

The pains of pregnancy.

When I had returned from Europe after finding out I was with child, I had told Barbara in a panic that I wouldn't be able to do it alone. After the first trimester, I was certain that if Bruce had ion fact died, I would have managed, given my strong drive for independence. It wasn't until I hit the final stretch of the last three months of my term that I realized just how wrong I had been.

My back ached constantly and only yoga, meditation and Bruce's fingertips kept me sane. Having been physically fit for most of my life, I found it worrisome that I was short of breath after doing the most simple of tasks but Leslie assured me it was normal given the pressure my body was undergoing. Aside from the edema and swelling in my lower legs, I was in a constant battle with intermittent cramps and numbness from the neck down. Again, Bruce was there whenever I needed him, to massage circulation back to its correct flow or to fetch cold or hot packs to sooth away my pain.

Anything I asked, growled or demanded of him, he would comply with a nod and "Yes, dear."

With far too much effort, I slipped on a dress, the silk green bodice fit tightly to my chest and the black, knee length skirt draped loosely from my waist. Pulling my hair free of the collar, I stepped in front of the mirror on th eback of the walk-in closet's door and sighed. While I looked at myself at the fifteenth angle that I could think of, Bruce's reflection joined mine.

Despite the sad look on his face, and the fact that I looked like a red and black whale, I grinned, "You like what you see?"

He smiled for a second before the frown returned to his lips, "Selina, why did you call me 'Bats' last night?"

Thinking on my feet, I replied, "I called you a bat? I don't know, I was half asleep and it was the middle of the night… tell me what else flies around at night, I'll call you that instead."

The look on his face said he was disappointed in my answer.

I turned around in order to wrap my arms around his neck, "Why were you up last night?"

"I thought I heard someone… Alfred thinks I was dreaming."

"Well you certainly do that a lot."

Bruce nodded, sighed and then leaned forward, resting his brow against mine, "I do."

I kissed him quickly before saying, "I was thinking… we should go clothes shopping."

"For who?" he asked, his eyes mere inches from mine.

"For the little one," I answered as I set his hand on my abdomen.

"The little big one," he remarked before pulling his head away from mine in order to look down between us.

"Was that a tone of sarcasm I heard?"

^V^

The flashback hit me like a freight train.

Instead of standing before Selina, my hand covering our unborn child, I was standing at the doorway, looking inwards. Selina was no where to be found as the only occupants in the room were my parents. My father sat at the bed buttoning his shirt while my mother was putting on a pearl necklace.

"Zorro. What a great movie for him to see," my mother said as she turned to face my father.

He smiled, "Was that a tone of sarcasm I heard?" he asked in a deep baritone.

"I just don't see how sword fights can be any good for him to see. Why not something else?"

"I promised him we would see it when it came to the Monarch… And besides, it's his birthday, I want it to be special."

"He was six when you told him about Zorro, Thomas, I doubt he would remember."

My father rose to his feet and gently grasped my mother's hands, pulling her close to him, "Mattie, I've broken too many promises to the boy… I don't plan to break this one."

"No… I'm just suggesting we go to the zoo or something."

"But Zorro won't be here forever and the zoo won't be going anywhere." My father pouted at her, "Please. I know he'll love it. He has such an imagination."

She turned away from him abruptly and headed towards the dresser, "Fine. But when he starts swinging on the chandeliers and carving Z's into the table, you'll have to deal with him."

My father's gaze found me at the door and he grinned, "You wouldn't do that, now would you. Brucie?"

"Bruce? Bruce?!"

My parents had disappeared and Selina hovered over me. It took a moment to realize that I was neither by the closet or the doorway, but rather laying flat on my back in the middle of the bedroom.

"Bruce, can you hear me?" Selina's hand patted my face softy, the worry in her face was frightening.

Slowly, I sat up, swallowing hard before asking, "What happened?"

Selina took to kneeling beside me, "You… We were talking and you just blacked out… Missed hitting the footboard of the bed by about three inches." She started rubbing my back, the concern in her face only spreading.

"I don't remember… I…" As I began to rise to my feet, Selina pushed down on my shoulder, telling me to stay as she stood and strode quickly to the bathroom. I called out to her, "I think I'm fine, Selina."

As she returned with a cold, wet wash cloth, Selina knelt beside me again, pressing the cloth to my brow, "You might think that, but you didn't see it… Just, please, sit for a minute or two."

It had been weeks since my last significant flash back, but I had noticed that they were progressively growing more and more severe. At first, they had been more like daydreams or just a sudden jolt of a random memory. The last few had literally knocked me off of my feet, putting me in what Alfred called a trance-like state. He suggested that as troubling as they were to endure, it was a probable sign that I was slowly remembering my former life.

But from what I had been seeing, I wasn't sure I wanted to remember.

Before Selina could question me any further, the phone rang. We raced each other to rise and retrieve it and I managed to pick it up on the second ring, "Yes."

"Sir, you… I need to speak with Ms. Kyle, sir."

I sighed and handed the phone over to her, "Alfred." Leaving her, I stepped into the bathroom in order to wash up before our outing. After closing the door behind me, I realized how worried Alfred had sounded and I couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong. In the event that something bad had happened, I decided it was worth listening in.

Carefully, I muted the phone in the bathroom and lifted the receiver from the cradle.

Alfred's voice was still filled with concern, "Ms. Kyle, I beg of you, do not let Master Bruce come downstairs."

"Alfred, why not? What's going on?" she replied.

"He… has a visitor. One that shouldn't be here."

She paused, "Who is this visitor?"

"A gentleman from his past…"

"A 'bad' gentleman?"

"No, in fact quite the opposite. A good gentleman… from Metropolis."

^V^

After months of being lied to, I finally had it.

I spent the morning at the Planet, re-tooling piece due for Friday on the Mayor's impending re-election. It was nice to be able to sit at a computer and type uninterrupted, considering the previous two weeks had been nothing but battling floods, train accidents and miscellaneous disasters requiring attention from the man of steel. It made me wonder how Gotham was still standing after six months without being under Bruce's vigilant gaze.

Outside of the rumored to be true news coverage of the Henri Pasqualle shoot out in May, there had been little evidence to support the fact that Batman had been gunned down. After all, his dark, moody presence still lurked the streets of Gotham as did Batgirl and Robin's. In fact the only masked faces missing were that of Nightwing and the Huntress. Given that Huntress had fallen off of everyone's radar back in January, it was safe to say the shootout had not affected her activities.

But the fact that Batman was shot and Nightwing disappeared was a cause for concern.

A grave concern.

"Smallville, how many or's are in repercussion?"

I glanced up my keyboard at the sound of Lois' voice. Looking over my shoulder, I found her hard at work at her desk, "Two or's. R-e-p-e-r-c-u---."

"Got it. Thanks."

She had been working over time at late, covering her regular flood of articles on top of developments with LexCorp and Superman's global activities. Regrettably, with out hectic lifestyles, the only time we were guaranteed to spend with one another was at the Daily Planet and even then it was short chats, scanning copy and speedy lunches at our desks. Again, I had found myself thinking of Bruce, how he had remained single after so many years and how it freed him of marital requirements.

"Clark?"

I glanced up again, this time to find Lois sitting on the edge of my desk, "What?"

"I asked if you wanted something to eat, I was going to run out to get a statement from that guy at LexTech---."

I interrupted her, "Dr. Davis, the nuclear physicist?"

"Yeah, that guy…. Anyway, I was going to hit Garf's on the way back. Pastrami sub?"

I grinned at her, "You read my mind."

Lois leaned over and kissed my cheek, simultaneously taking the wallet out of my pocket, "Back in an hour."

Once she had disappeared into the throng hovering around the elevators, I rose from my desk, donning my suit coat before adjusting my tie. An hour would be more than enough time to run the sole errand on my list. Excusing myself to the break room, I feigned drinking coffee and chit chat until the room cleared, losing fifteen minutes. Alone, I quickly washed the mug and set it in the drying rack before opening the window and taking flight.

Thankfully, clear skies spread throughout the northeast and I made it to Gotham without any hurdles. Carefully, I let myself drop before the front entrance of Wayne Manor, doing my best to quickly scan the house. Bruce was walking down a corridor on the third floor, looking no worse for the wear. Rather than simply fly up to meet him, I opted to go the more polite route and knocked on the front door.

Alfred greeted me, his warm smile fading when he realized who was calling, "Master Kent… I must say, this is quite a surprise."

"I know he's here, Alfred… I just want to talk to him," I nodded before stepping into the atrium.

"Indeed, sir, but I am afraid Master Bruce is… is not accepting visitors of any kind today. Perhaps if you would wish to visit another day---."

I respected Alfred. He had unquestionable devotion to his Family, he was able to mend both physical and emotional wounds with ease and he was capable of turning Batman into a six year-old-boy with a single look.

However, I wasn't about to let my respect for him get in the way of finding out what the hell was going on.

"Alfred. Please, either call him down here or I'm going upstairs. Either way, I'm not leaving until I've spoken with him."

After a moment of consideration, Alfred nodded and excused himself to a room to the left. I listened carefully as he told a woman upstairs not to let Bruce come down. No doubt Alfred knew I would have eavesdropped, so I took that as my invitation to proceed on my own. Navigating the main floor, I reached the main stairwell just as Bruce came into view. I took a closer look at him, confused to see him free of casts or bandages or even so much as a limp. I needed to find a reason behind his face no longer being concealed by the cowl at night.

When I found it, I felt my breath give out.

Alfred's thin fingers latched onto my shoulder, pulling me out of view of the stairs and behind glass encased cabinet. The look on his face was stern and displeased, a look Bruce had certainly seen many times.

"Alfred, how did he---?"

He cut me off mid-sentence, "Now you have seen why we have been so protective of him."

"Is he… I mean… he looks fine but, the bullet," I began again, looking over my shoulder in another attempt to see him.

"I've already contacted Master Dick…"

"What's wrong with him, Alfred?" I demanded quietly.

With a sigh, Alfred relented, "He is completely amnesiatic. It has been a long six months of recovery, of which is far from being compelte… As I was saying, Master Dick will be here later this evening to discuss any questions you may have, in the mean time---."

Bruce's voice sounded, "Alfred, is that you?"

We both stepped back into view, finding Bruce standing in the middle of the wide corridor. He was dressed casually in dark, tailored jeans and a fitted shirt underneath and black vee-neck sweater. He smiled at Alfred and was about to speak before he noticed my presence.

I found my eyes locked onto the small dark scar above his left eye.

Alfred, as always, was quick to save the day, "Master Bruce, this is Mr. Clark Kent… he is an old friend of yours… he decided to pay you a surprise visit."

The Bruce I had known would have nodded slightly, narrowing his eyes at me if I had interrupted something important.

This Bruce took a step forward, a soft smile on his face while he extended a hand towards me, "Relax, Alfred. We don't get too many visitors. Nice to see you, Clark."

There wasn't a single spark of recognition in Bruce's eyes as we shook hands.

Dear, God, Bruce… what had happened to you?

Bruce released my hand and then looked behind him and back towards the stairs, "Unfortunately Clark you caught me at a bad time. Selina and I were on our way out to town. Perhaps you could come back later…" Dick was coming for dinner, wasn't he Alfred?"

"Correct, sir," I heard Alfred say from behind me.

I was about to ask who Selina was when I realized she must have been the woman Alfred had called upstairs. As Bruce went on to say something about going clothes shopping and possibly getting some lunch, I spotted a flash of red and black descending the stairs. I had seen her a number of times before, only she had been wearing skin tight purple leather and claws.

As she approached us, I found myself no long staring at the bullet scar on Bruce's forehead but at Selina's perfect physique save for her rounded abdomen.

Oh, boy.

^V^


	13. Time Will Tell: XII

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been modified to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

Awkward would have been the understatement of the century.

Coming down the stairs as fast as my pregnant feet would carry me, I had expected to reach the bottom to find Superman in all his regal glory. Instead, there stood a man, slightly taller and bigger than Bruce in an ill-fitted suit and glasses that would have been out of style fifteen years ago. The square jaw bore a perfect dimple and his coal black hair was slightly mused, somehow befitting the rest of his appearance.

I had seen Superman a number of times and couldn't help but stand in awe before him.

This guy looked like he just ran after a Metro Bus for four blocks and still missed it.

As I stared at the man, Bruce turned around and spoke, "Ready?"

"Are you?" I asked, nodding to our unexpected guest.

Alfred stepped forward, "You best be on your way, Master Bruce. Traffic will be monstrous if you don't." When Bruce opened his mouth to speak, Alfred cut him off, "Please, it would be my pleasure to see your guest out, don't feel obliged to stay, after all, we shall all have an… entertaining dinner this evening."

"You're acting like your kicking me out, Alfred."

I hooked my arm with Bruce's as a last resort, "Bruce… I really don't want to spend all in bumper to bumper on St. James Parkway."

"Okay… Sorry about rushing out like this…" he turned to the gentleman.

With a smile, he replied, "Please, don't worry about it… we'll catch up at dinner."

Reaching the garage, I let Bruce pick car keys from the locked case and waited for his lead as to what vehicle we were taking. Once seated in glossy, dolphin gray Mercedes S550, I took a deep breath, "So much for a quiet day."

Bruce started the car after hitting the garage door remote, "What do you mean?"

I reached over and touched his bicep, "Never mind. Just drive."

As he navigated the fourteen mile route to Gotham, Barbara called my cell phone and I was surprised when she asked if she could join the day's efforts. After running it over with Bruce, he agreed and altered his mental navigation to take us to Tri-Corner. When he had first started driving back in July, Dick had been his only co-pilot. After mastering the grounds of Wayne Manor, the Bristol countryside and the parkways around Gotham, he had finally been fit for city driving. At first, he had always kept a GPS navigation device on but after a few weeks he was able to find practically anywhere in Gotham all on his own.

I wondered how much of it had been learned as opposed to recalled.

By the time we had made it to the Clocktower, it was nearly noon and I voiced that we eat first in order to prepare for an afternoon of shopping. Again, Bruce readily agreed and did his best to make good time in midday traffic. While Barbara and I chatted about where we should take our quest for all things baby, I kept one eye on Bruce who apparently was completely zoned out.

I reached over and set a hand on his as he gripped the shift stick and he finally relaxed.

We ate quickly at a nice Italian place across from the Langier Theatre on Trade Avenue. Between bites of divine spinach ravioli, miniature stuffed manicotti and stole from Bruce's apricot chicken and asparagus, Barbara and I small talked about anything we could think of that was appropriate in public. And in front of Bruce. The whole time, Bruce appeared to still be in his self-induced daze.

I wasn't sure what was bothering him more, the random visit of his former ally or the fact that he had another flashback episode.

Bruce finally spoke up towards the end of lunch, "Barbara, do you know who Clark Kent is?"

I watched as she nearly spat out a fork full of ravioli, "He writes for the Daily Planet. Why do you ask?"

Bruce shrugged as he broke up his garlic bread into tiny cubes, "He was at the Manor this morning, before we came to get you."

Her eyes darted to mine and I turned and studied my sweating water glass. Alfred had hinted that the man was Superman, indicating that an ally from Metropolis was in the foyer. Through my relationship with Bruce, I had learned the identities of his closest allies but had no need or desire to discover those of other heroes. Those of his colleagues across the nation and the globe had thankfully had not been made known to me. It was bad enough to know the face of the world's greatest detective let alone the titans he rallied alongside.

Or rather had rallied alongside.

Apparently I had taken the stairs too slowly at the Manor as I had missed the exchange of civilian nomenclature…

"Well," Barbara finally started to speak, "That is a surprise…"

"Alfred said we were friends. But… we couldn't have been that close if this is the first time he's come to see me."

We both looked to her for further explanation of which she timidly offered, "You weren't really close… more like acquaintances… but…" she lowered her voice, "You know how hard things were in the beginning Bruce, after the accident."

I glanced to him just as he began to nod, "I know… but you were here, the both of you, to support me… I figured a friend should be there for someone, when things are difficult. Right?"

Hearing such a socially acceptable line of thought pass through his lips had been surprising. He was right, friends should be there for one another and certainly Clark had made the attempt but had been rebutted in order to protect Bruce. Thinking of the horrible stories I had learned of from both Alfred and Barbara about Bruce troubled friendship with the man of steel suddenly killed my appetite.

Before either of us could attempt to change the subject, Bruce glanced over at an adjacent table at a couple sharing a slice of chocolate mousse cake. He then looked back to us and smirked, "That dark marble mocha cake looks good."

^V^

After Master Bruce and Ms. Selina had departed for their afternoon of shopping, Mr. Kent had turned to me as finally let the shock wash over his features. After looking back in the direction they had disappeared, he gasped, "Alfred… he didn't even…"

"As I said, Mr. Kent, it has been a long six months for this Family… Master Bruce has surpassed all of our expectations in his recovery and will no doubt continue to do so."

When his piercing blue eyes found me, he proceeded, "Why wasn't I told about his condition, why was I kept in the dark?"

I had faced of with a number of powerful figures while standing at Master Bruce's side, and although the man before me could have turned me to ash with a blink, I stood taller and responded, "It was in Master Bruce's best interest to inform only the necessary individuals to aide in his rehabilitation. Regrettably, it was decided that allies and colleagues not be included in order to protect not only Master Bruce but to preserve the identity of the Batman."

"I could have---."

"If I may be so bold, what's done is done, sir. Now that you have taken the initiative to penetrate our defenses, you will no doubt be welcomed into this circle… although I caution you to tread lightly. For your own sake as well as his."

He remained silent for a moment, the intensity in his face finally ebbing as he spoke, "I'm sorry Alfred, I just… I thought I was close enough to be trusted with something like this."

"My apologies for being so blunt, but Family comes first in this house, now and always."

Mr. Kent, having been raised in the heartland of the nation, nodded. He then allowed a smirk to grace his lips, "Guess that even if he's not the Bruce I knew… he's still keeping secrets from me."

"And he would have it no other way, sir."

He left shortly after, promising to return for dinner no matter what the day brought him. Relieved of entertaining the unexpected visitor, I quickly made my way to the den in order to telephone Master Dick. He had laughed, despite the hectic situation I described to him, and then admitted, "Barbara said eh called her this morning… I was going to get in touch with him… invite him over and talk things over… apparently he beat me to it."

"I must admit… Master Bruce seemed rather… accepting of Mr. Kent's visit…"

"That's a first," Master Dick sighed, "I'm sorry, Al, I should have taken care of this sooner, hell, even from the beginning---."

"Ahem."

"Sorry… heck. At any rate, it should make for an interesting dinner… might have to tap the wine cellar to get through it."

He promised to arrive before Master Kent so that he would have a moment alone with him prior to dinner.

Dinner…

With the afternoon to myself, I completed my duties around the Manor before taking to the town of Bristol. While perusing the produce market, organic butcher and specialty grocery store, I collected the necessary ingredients for the evening's hero laden feast. While stepping through the service entrance, arms full of brown paper bags, I was greeted with the ring of the kitchen's telephone. Setting the bags down on the counter, I answered on the fourth ring, "May I help you?"

"Alfred, it's Selina… We're going to be a little late getting back, probably not until seven."

Glancing at my pocket watch, I found that the time had somehow gotten to be nearly five, "Very well, Ms. Selina, I will inform Master Dick when he arrives."

"Oh, and Barbara said she wanted to come up," she added, feminine laughter sounding in the background.

"It would be an honor to have her," I replied, growing concerned when I heard Master Bruce's laughter as well.

A sound that brought a smile to my face.

At half past six, the formal dining room table had been set and the hors d'oeuvres, entrée and remaining courses had been prepared. Given the occasion, I had decided on whetting appetites with prosciutto and gruyere pastry pinwheels along with grilled parmigiano reggiano cheese tarts. The second course, a personal favorite of Ms. Barbara, was none other than a simple mixed greens salad, dressed with a vanilla-pear-walnut vinaigrette.

To sate the hunger of such noble warriors and expectant mothers alike, I had selected flavorful cremini mushrooms and cuts of chicken breast at the market as well as freshly made whole grain linguini. Combined, they formed a divine dish, once topped with a marsala marscapone sauce. To conclude the meal, I had selected a favorite of Master Dick's: the infamous raspberry-lime Napoleon, served with a scoop of raspberry sorbet.

The effort put into the meal was regrettably not matched with the effort put into its attendance.

Ms. Barbara had called to inform that she was going to pass given a possible sighting of the currently at large criminal Maxie Zeus. Although he had been incarcerated in the maximum security wing of Arkham Asylum for several years, he had made an escape during a transfer to a rehabilitation center in Virginia two months earlier. Although not exactly one of the more violent offenders, he was certainly a risk to the public. More specifically, to those residing in a private community upstate, woefully named Mount Olympus that was three hours upstate.

Master Dick called nine minutes later, telling me that he would also no longer be in attendance as he was going to head directly to the Cave in order to take the jet for his search. At the time of his call, Maxie Zeus's presence had been confirmed by local authorities and that he was trying to expel the humans from his "rightful throne".

Therefore the first guest of the evening was none other than Clark Kent.

Although I had greeted him formally at the front door, explained the whereabouts of the others, offered for him to wait in the den, he had followed me back to the kitchen, the first words out of his mouth had been, "I think we should have a talk, Alfred."

"But of course… However… in the absence of Master Dick, I can only offer what little I know…"

"You know everything, Alfred… you always do."

I was wiping down a spotless countertop, doing anything I could to bide time until the others arrived. Keeping my eyes on the pointless task, I remained silent.

"I know who Selina is… who she really is… I just… I don't understand what she's doing in his life… in her condition."

When I finally looked up, I realized how confused and uncomfortable the last son of Krypton appeared to be. No doubt he was conflicted over discovering the truth behind Master Bruce's absence, in addition to the visceral pain of being kept in the dark about so many other changes in his friend's life. Setting the washcloth aside, I offered, "Master Bruce and Ms. Kyle were in an intimate relationship long before the… accident."

"Doesn't sound like the Bruce I know… knew."

"It is not my duty to dwell on Master Bruce's affairs, Mr. Kent… but… throughout his career as Batman… he and Ms. Kyle have grown to trust one another, striving against the odds and their differences in order to come together… their child represents their accomplishments… solitary beings that have come to depend on one another."

He nodded slowly before inquiring, "Six months… she was only pregnant weeks before he was shot… did he know?"

I shook my head, opting to not inform him of Ms. Selina taking to Europe in order to escape the false ghost of her lover, "None of us did… not until she was nearly two months along… However, if he had known prior to the shooting, no doubt he would have been thrilled."

"Thrilled?"

A flash of light appeared in the darkness outside the kitchen windows and we both looked to see a car pulling up the drive. With a small smirk, I explained, "Master Bruce, in his former life and the one he lives know, loves her. Very much."

Before he could reply, we both heard laughter coming towards the service entrance from the garage. With the rustle of paper shopping bags, jumbled footfalls and growing laughter, the end of a story came from Bruce's baritone voice, "To be fair, underwear is underwear. I told that to the clerk but he just said, 'Sir, underwear is not just underwear… this is the unmentionables counter. You'll have to take that to the men's undergarment and nightwear counter.' It was ridiculous…"

The returning party passed through the open archway leading into the kitchen, pausing as they saw Mr. Kent. He was indeed a good man; everyone knew that every single intention within him was of pure in heart and only in the interests of others and their well-being. He simply wanted to reach to the friend he once had, even if it required starting anew.

After a brief pause, Master Bruce stepped forward, putting the bags he carried in one hand in order to shake that of his guest. Mr. Kent nodded, the confusion and frustration fading from his face. Glancing back to Ms. Selina, Master Bruce announced, "Sorry about being late… Not too gifted at this shopping thing…"

"Neither am I," Mr. Kent admitted.

Master Bruce smirked, "Next time, you ladies are on your own… I'll stay here and hang out with Clark."

Whether it seeing such amiability in a man who had once been so dark or the genuine smile on Master Bruce's face, something had caused Mr. Kent to relax enough to offer up a trademark grin.

^V^

As we finished out divine dessert and glasses of Beaumes de Venise, Bruce looked up at me and asked, "So, Barbara said earlier today that you and your wife both work for the Daily Planet."

Throughout dinner, I had tried to convince myself that I was going to have to come to terms that Bruce was a changed man, and seemingly for the better. He laughed, he smiled, he teased, he seemed genuinely interested in the people around him. Although I was the reporter, I was taking dozens of questions from him, may of which I had to doctor answers. Alfred had warned me prior to dinner that Bruce had no knowledge of his former life as Batman, which cut out a large portion of our past together, a past he wanted to know everything about.

I looked up at Bruce, still uneasy by the calm, friendly look on his face. "Yeah, it certainly keeps us busy… Interviews, attending press conferences… although Lois seems to travel the world for stories and I get stuck with the local stuff."

Bruce smiled, "Sounds great… I mean, when I do go to work, it's just sitting in my office or going to meetings and lunches… boring compared to what you do."

It was nearly nine-thirty in the evening, and although there were dozens of reasons to leave, I found myself unable to get up from the table. Lois was waiting at home, dozens of emergencies had lapsed and yet I was motionless, mesmerized. Sitting not two feet away was a man I had known for half of my adult life, a man who had saved the world ten times over and yet he didn't even know it. He didn't know who he was…

As Alfred made a final attempt to refill after dinner coffee cups, I heard a the distinct sound of thrust vectoring MiG 29M engines, quickly drawing my attention outside. Letting my glasses dip down my nose, I focused through the walls of Wayne Manor and smirked to see the fast approaching aircraft. Wally always joked that someday he would be brave enough to take a joyride in Batman's jet. I mused sadly that he would have a better chance taking it from Dick rather than Bruce…

The others should no indication that Dick had returned from his evening's adventure save for Barbara coincidentally checking her Blackberry just as Dick landed in the Cave. Knowing her and her electronic prowess, no doubt it was mini-Bat Computer for work on the go. I kept an eye on Dick after he quickly changed out of the suit and raced upstairs, walking to the kitchen to fake an entrance into the Manor.

Selina yawned and patted Bruce's shoulder, "I think it's time for bed."

Bruce glanced at his watch, "Oh… I didn't realize how late it had gotten… Clark… I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I replied, trying to hide the awe over the fact that it was the first time he had said the words to me and meant them.

"Well, it's a long way back to Metropolis," Bruce said as he rose to his feet, "I'll have Alfred prepare a room for you if you'd like to stay."

Barbara and Selina both looked up at me knowing that Clark Kent would have a good three hour drive ahead of him although Superman would have a three and half minute flight.

I rose to my feet as well and declined, "Oh, no that's okay, Bruce. Really, I actually prefer traveling at night, less traffic… That and If I'm not there to get coffee for Lois in the morning…"

Bruce nodded, and then offered, "You'll have to visit more often… with Lois. She sounds great."

I had to force the haunting images of Bruce kissing her years earlier from my mind before responding, "Of course."

As we shook hands, he offered to show me to the door just as Dick walked into the dining room, "Whew, what a day… Hey, Clark, didn't think you'd still be here."

Smiling, I shrugged, "Either did I… time flies, I suppose."

"I'll walk you out, catch up a little…" Dick offered, and when Bruce went to interject, he asked, "Hey, did you leave me any Napoleons?"

"Don't look at me, Selina had thre---."

A napkin in the hands of his impregnated significant other had turned lethal as she used it to rat tail him in the behind.

Bruce corrected himself, "Yes, I left you some."

After spending the evening observing their interactions, I realized just how blind I had been before. Their banter reflected what I endured with Lois, along with the knowing and telling looks and silent questions and warnings. Alfred had been right, he loved her and for Bruce to be happy and in love… maybe it was the silver lining to the condition he was stricken with?

Upon bidding farewell to Barbara and Selina, I turned to Bruce and offered my hand, "I can't tell you how good it was to see you again, Bruce… to see that everything is okay."

"It is now," he replied as he shook my hand, "Once the baby is born, I keep hearing that my life is going to flip upside down."

"Well… I think you can handle it."

He let go and turned to look at Selina, "We can."

Promising to return soon with Lois, I stepped out of the dining room and followed Dick down the corridor. To my surprise, he did not escort me to the door but rather lead the way to the study, to the secret entrance. On the way down, I apologized, trying to explain my hasty and unannounced visit. I also defended myself, saying I had a right to know the truth, not only as his former colleague but as his friend.

Bruce would have been proud for how long Dick was able to ignore me.

It was he reached the platform of the computer bay that he finally spoke, not as the young man whom I had helped following his leaving Batman's side. There was something dark in his eyes, his face too stoic… He'd been wearing the cowl for six months and may very well wear it for the rest of his life. A fact that caused Alfred's fine meal to churn in my stomach.

"Clark… I should have told you sooner… but since he came out of the coma, I've done nothing but try to protect him. From people who have become strangers to him, from the truth about his own life… even from himself… I'll allow you to keep visiting him if you agree to protect him as well."

"Meaning?"

"You can't bring Lois here."

"What? She cares about Bruce, she---."

Dick shook his head, silencing me, "Yes, she does. But she's a reporter first, Bruce's friend second."

"You know that's not true," I countered, taking a few steps to stand in front of him. Looking down at him, I added. "I can explain it to her, she'll understand, Dick."

Again, Bruce would have been proud as Dick stood his ground, "I said no. You don't like it, you don't have to come here either."

I should have been angered by his arrogance, but I found myself nodding. After all, he was doing his job, protecting Bruce. "Fine… no Lois… not until he gets better."

"Clark, he may not---."

"Since when are you the pessimist?" I smirked before setting a hand on his shoulder, "He'll get better, Dick… It's Bruce, he never lets anything get the best of him."

Finally, a crack formed in Dick's armor as he smiled sadly.

^V^

"How did it go?" I asked as I perched on the rusty fire escape. For what the Grand hotel charged for a room each night, you'd think they would have the money to replace something as vital as an emergency exit for people on floors two through twenty.

"Zeus was in the process of evicting the residents in the largest house of the community by the time I got there. Fortunately, no one was hurt."

"Except the god of lightning."

I heard a siren through the comm. link before Batman's reply came, "He tried to hug me. Welcoming his brother Hades to his new home, suggested we form an alliance to show the humans they needed to respect the gods once more, to bring them to their knees in prayer."

"Clash of the Titans was on TBS last weekend… apparently he caught it."

Dick would have laughed at that had he not been overseeing the police paddy wagon rounding up thirteen men who had tried to smuggle nearly a two million dollars worth of weapons into Gotham. He had been tracking their activities since August, their big shipment arriving the first of November at eleven. Unfortunately, when they opened the large cargo box, the only weapon inside had been Batman. It had been a great idea we had come up with, one that had nearly been ruined when Maxi Zeus had starting causing trouble upstate. Dick had returned to the Manor briefly before heading into the city, barely making it to the boat at the docks in time to switch cargo boxes.

Apparently, three of the men had wet themselves.

Another two had screamed like seven-year-old girls.

When he had replayed the event over the link to me, I had complained, "Man, I wish I had been there."

The reason I hadn't was that with Batman off to capture Zeus, Batgirl and I had been left the reins to the city, doing our best to maintain regular patrols while making sure things in the harbor were still on schedule. Thankfully, the scum of the city weren't too motivated with the cold, windy weather, but then again, neither had I. I stopped twice at the Clocktower to warm up, and then the third time Barbara had threatened to activate countermeasures if I snuck into her living room and tracked boot prints one more time.

Fair enough.

Since I had been far too occupied with the gun dealers, I had yet to ask him about Maxie Zeus, on of Batman's more interesting foes. Interesting as in he believed himself to be the Greek king of the gods. He had once been a history teacher of the classical ages but after losing his wife, his life had taken a downward turn and he ended up landing in the criminal world. Far more intelligent than his associates, he had quickly risen the ranks to a crime lord, gaining power and wealth seemingly without effort. Combined with his in depth knowledge of Greek mythology, a themed criminal was born.

I had read his file a number of times, recounting his criminal efforts over the years, Anything from kidnapping Olympians to trying to claim Gotham as his kingdom and everything in between. He always had referred to Batman as Hades, his brother who ruled the underworld. As tacky as he had sounded, he was a formidable force in his prime, but after years of rehabilitation, he had seemed to become somewhat functional again.

Although my personal favorite would always be when Bane let the inmates of Arkham Asylum free, Zeus had ran through the woods in his straight jacket directly into one of his loyal subjects: a tree.

Batman's voice was in my ear again, "He didn't put up much of a fight… then again, he's nearly fifty years old."

"Does he have a big gray beard?" I asked, fighting back smile.

"Yes. It smelled really bad."

I waited a beat before asking, "So… when Alfred called me earlier, he said they had company. Who was it?"

He didn't answer me.

Not until twenty minutes later when I had been sitting on top of a heating air duct on the Grand Hotel, sneaking up behind me, "It was Clark."

I did my best to hide my surprise, from both his appearance and the name of the guest. Rising to my feet, I faced Batman, "Really? What happened?"

"He's been trying to figure out what we were hiding from him for some time," he walked away from me, pausing near the edge of the twenty story drop. The wind had finally died down, or else he would have been blown away while saying, "He had called Barbara this morning and after being rebuked one more time, he had decided to take matters into his own hands."

"He just showed up?"

"Yes… Alfred had tried to diffused the situation but Bruce had come downstairs and when he met Clark, he ended up inviting him over for dinner."

"Dinner." I whispered, feeling my stomach growl.

"I had intended on talking with Clark before everyone sat down but ended up having to upstate. Didn't get back until he was getting ready to leave."

"What did you tell him?"

He finally turned to face me, "I told him he could visit… Bruce seemed… so happy to see him, to spend time with him… to have a friend."

Thinking back, I hadn't seen or spoken with Bruce in nearly a week. It wasn't that I had no time, just not the inspiration. For months I had been trying to convince myself that one of these days, everything would go back to normal and everything would be as it once was. Every day, it hadn't everyone in the Family had kept going, looking ahead while I looked behind me.

I had wasted so much time avoiding Bruce, when I should have been there for him, as his friend.

I suddenly had an urge to see Bruce but knew he was fast asleep in bed.

^V^

After a long day on my feet, the bath tub was calling my name.

While Bruce had stayed down to talk with Dick over dessert, I had made the trek upstairs to start settling in for the night. As the bath tub filled with hot, soapy water, I pinned up my hair, fought back yawns and replayed the night's entertainment.

Namely, Bruce and Clark acting like long lost friends.

I knew of the tension that had existed between them before the shooting. I remember teasing Bruce that for being a loner, he had a number of allies in Gotham and around the world. We had been lying on the floor in front of the fireplace of my penthouse, sharing a platter of sushi and sashimi along with a carafe of hot sake. Not the ideal meal at six in the morning, but he had been late getting donw He had been quick to explain, "In Gotham, yes… elsewhere, not so much?"

I had inquired, "You don't play well with the other kids?"

"Some better than others.," he had explained softly, "I've never come to trust them, or their abilities."

"Not even Superman?" I had teased.

Something had flashed in his eyes before he answered, "We have… an understanding of one another." when I had asked what that meant, he had said, "He believes we are friends, but I have no friends."

"You have me," I had smiled at him before crawling over top of him.

The good old days…

Seeing them at dinner had been short of mind altering, and given the text messages Barbara had sent me all night long, it had been for her as well. They had chatted like they had been college roommates who had finally found one another and were trying to play catch up on each others' lives. Batman and Superman… chatty Cathy's.

I had just settled into the tub when I heard Bruce enter the bedroom followed by his watch clanking on the dresser after being removed. There were a few minutes where the only sound I heard was that of bubble popping before he appeared in the open doorway, "Enjoying yourself?"

"Indeed. You should join me, then it would be very enjoyable."

"To sit in a tub of boiling water and raspberry soap bubbles?"

I grinned, "Don't forget the naked woman carrying your child, Bruce."

"Touché," he replied before reaching for his belt. I smiled as he disrobed in front of me before carefully stepping into the water, sitting across from me at the other end of the tub. His legs went to the outside of mine and his toes just reached my rear. After sitting back and closing his eyes, he mumbled, "Very enjoyable."

I closed my eyes as well but at the sound of water moving, I opened them just in time to see him tracing scars over his torso. Given that the water barely reached the base of his sternum, he had quite a few to look at. To distract him, I rested my feet in his lap, tracing my toes over the length of him.

Eyes wide, he looked to me and said, "Well then."

"Rub a dub dub," I said with a smile as I moved towards him.

Perhaps, I had filled the tub too much. Or at least for aquatic acrobatics.

With water soaking the floor and bath mats, bubbles on the tiled walls and ceiling, not to mention the missing hot water handle I had broken off, I leaned forward into Bruce's chest as I knelt above him, letting my breaths come in heavy pants.

Letting his head fall back, Bruce asked, "I thought we couldn't do that… any more."

"We can… just not… too crazy," I kissed his exposed throat.

He looked up again and I lifted my head as well. After surveying the damage, he sighed, "Alfred's never going to let me have a bath again…"

In an attempt to salvage our bathing privileges, he mopped up the mess with towels, leaving me one to dry myself with. Being the gentleman that he was, Bruce left himself with a hand towel to dry with. He managed to get the bubble wiped down from the walls but those on the ceiling would have to make their own fall from grace.

I changed into a pair of pink cotton pajama pants and a tank top that barely covered the swell of my abdomen while Bruce dug around for his own pajamas. I had yet to unpack the shopping bags from our day's efforts but had no motivation to do so. Morning, I told myself, After breakfast.

Spent, I settled into bed before Bruce, not wanting to wait for him to change. Settling deep into the pillows, I sighed and set a hand on my stomach, waiting for the little one to relax as well. Once he emerged from the walk-in closet, he walked around, shutting off lights before joining me.

Even though he had no reason to, Bruce often had trouble falling asleep. Alfred suggested it was a result of the years he had spent living off mere hours of rest, rarely going to bed before five in the morning. When I had first moved into the Manor, he had spent many nights laying awake at night, staring at me while I slept. I had asked him about it once and he had replied, "I don't know… I can't help it."

As he laid beside me, his eyes were straight up at the ceiling, a dead giveaway that his mind was still running on all cylinders. I took my hand off of my body in order to retrieve his, placing it beneath mine as it pressed to a sleepy in-utero baby.

With practically no light in the room, I barely made out his eyes as they fell to my face.

"Good night, Bruce."

"Good night… Selina… Good night, baby… Good night, moon, good night, stars… Good ni---."

"Shut up," I growled in the darkness."

"Yes, dear."

^V^


	14. Time Will Tell: XIII

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been modified to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

Snow fell silently outside of the frosted windows, the sunlight casting a soft glow through the clouds. The massive trees of Wayne Manor were weighed down with a fresh three inches . Three inches that the meteorologist had reported the night before that we weren't supposed to get. We had already endured nearly two feet during the week leading up to Christmas, the bonus accumulation was just adding insult to injury.

The only good to come of it was Bruce's childlike obsession with the wintry weather. Since the first snowfall just after Thanksgiving, he had tried nearly every winter activity in existence, under the tutelage of Dick and Tim. Snow shoeing, cross country and downhill skiing, ice skating and even snowball fights. The boys had suggested they make a trek up to the Lake Placid Olympic village to try out alpine skiing and the bobsled track but Alfred had put his foot down.

Bruce had been the first to rebel, "That's not fair."

As I recalled, Dick and Tim had burst out laughing at Bruce's immature complaint, followed quickly by Alfred redefining the Bat-glare.

Christmas Eve, I had fallen asleep with Bruce's stomach against my lower back, moving slowly with each breath. His one hand had settled on my stomach limply, guarding our soon to be born child. Despite the fact that the thermostat was set to seventy, I had still been chilly and instinctively leaned back into his embrace.

At midnight, I was nearly asleep when I had felt his lips against my ear, "Merry Christmas."

I had groaned, "Bah humbug."

In all honestly, I was jealous of his excitement, not only of the snow but of the holiday itself. It was, in a way, his first Christmas and with my due date a little over a month away, he was literally a bundle of excitement. After our baby shopping had been completed, we had spent the first two weeks of December making the room next to the master bedroom as a nursery. Given that we had not learned the gender, we had painted the walls a light shade of purple with lavender trim, adding decals of jungle animals. Where most father's fought with assembling furniture, Bruce had read over the instructions once and then had been able to empty boxes of parts and turn them into a complete nursery set without a problem.

Just as if it would have been had he not been stricken with amnesia…

Upon waking Christmas morning, I felt a chill wash over me and when I went to lean back into Bruce, I found no warm torso breathing slowly. Looking over my shoulder, I found his side of the bed empty and sat up as quickly as I could, "Bruce?"

"Over here."

The drapes had been pulled back on one of the large windows, outlining his silhouette as he sat on the couch by himself watching the snow fall. Wrapping the comforter around me, I slowly sat up before pushing myself up and out of bed. As I joined him on the sofa I yawned, "What time is it?"

Without looking away from the window, he answered, "Almost eight."

"What happened to sleeping in?" I asked as I moved to sit closer to him, wrapping the blanket over his lap.

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep… I'll go downstairs if you want to-."

Setting my head on his shoulder, I cut him off, "Why couldn't you sleep?"

The fact that he remained silent answered my question. He had a nightmare.

"Want to talk about it?"

He shook his head, then kissed my brow, "No… not today. Today it's Christmas."

"That it is," I turned my head as well, although I kissed him on the lips.

When he pulled back, Bruce asked, "Is it too early to go downstairs?"

I yawned again, "You can go down if you want… I'm sure Alfred has been up for-."

He suddenly jumped up from the couch and dashed for the door, grabbing his robe on the way out. I called out after him that we needed to eat breakfast first but he called back , "Nope, we switched it to brunch!"

I rose to my feet again, leaving the blanket on the couch in order to search for my own robe. Rather than make a fresh out of bed Christmas morning appearance, I took a few minutes to wash up, brush my hair and teeth and apply lotion ot my arms and legs. A glance in the mirror suggested I didn't look that bad for a woman who was eight months pregnant. That included the swollen ankles and feet, painfully swollen breasts and random patches of irritated skin.

Despite all of that, I had never looked better. Or at least happier.

The trip down the stairs took ten minutes and when I arrived at the den, voices were already stirring. Apparently, Bruce hadn't been the only one ready to start the festivities. Due to the unpredictable weather, our guests had stayed over the night before. I had expected Dick, Barbara and Cassandra but when Jim Gordon had showed up with an overnight bag, I had been honestly surprised. Then again, Bruce considered him Family and had personally invited him up for the holiday.

I smiled to see that Dick sat next to Barbara on the far couch on the far side of the massive tree while Jim sat alone in a small blue easy chair. Sitting on the floor, eyeing everyone else with a shy smile, sat Cassandra dressed not in pajamas but Lyrcra leggings and a matching sleeveless shirt. She had most likely already put in a few hours in the training bay following a light night of patrols.

How many Christmas mornings had she missed out on growing up?

Alfred, who was the only being dressed for the day, stood at the entrance and handed me a cup of tea, "Merry Christmas, Ms. Selina."

I kissed his cheek, "A very Merry Christmas, Alfred."

Spotting Bruce as he sat on the sofa opposite of Dick and Barbara, I smirked to see him staring at the tree in awe. It reminded me of a little boy who couldn't wait to see what Santa Claus had brought him. I joined him, setting my tea on the end table before leaning in to kiss his cheek. Apparently, they had been waiting for my arrival for once I was settled, the gift exchange and wrapping paper shredding began.

Seeing how I refused to have a baby shower, most of my gifts were in fact for the baby. The only gift that hadn't been was a small yellow box from Barbara. Within it had been a certificate for an entire day's worth of services at the Manna Dew Spa in Bryanttown as well as an intricate piece of purple lingerie. After opening it, I winked at her and she nodded, "Least I could do."

Taking a break to sip my tea, I watched on as the rest of the Family exchanged gifts. Barbara opened a small velvet box to find an emerald and gold bracelet from Dick as he opened a gift from her. He held up a pair of rubber kitchen gloves and a bottle of 409, "Seriously… my apartment isn't that bad. I just cleaned it."

"Halloween weekend, right?" Jim chided.

Dick grumbled to himself while the rest of us laughed. Odds were he hadn't been in his own apartment in weeks given his hectic schedule, juggling Gotham and Bludhaven precariously. Not that it kept us from enjoying his misfortune.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

^V^

A week earlier, Dick and I had gone to a nursery just outside of Bristol in order to pick out a Christmas tree. After an hour of touring the lot, I had come upon a Douglas fir that was nearly as wide as it was tall. Dick had joined me in admiring it before saying, "Well, Bruce, what do you think?"

Thinking of the childhood photographs of Christmas mornings I had no memory of, I replied, "It's perfect."

"Sure you don't want the Charlie Brown tree we saw up front?"

"I'm sure."

After finding an attendant, we had watched on as the tree was wrapped and bound before being tied securely on the roof of the SUV we had driven over in. Adding in a dozen fresh pine wreaths and boughs, the total had come to well over seven hundred dollars. I had already spent a considerable amount of new ornaments, decorations and lights but I had wanted everything to be perfect.

Interestingly enough, the main gift I had bought Selina had cost less than forty dollars. Alfred had said that the price of something meant nothing compared to the sentimental value. I felt that the sentimental value of her gift was priceless and hopefully she would think the same.

On the ride home from the nursery, Dick had taken the wheel, leaving me riding passenger. We had spent the day together snowmobiling through the woods surrounding the Manor, chasing each other down trails that I had walked countless times over the summer months, alone. For most of the warmer months, Dick, Tim and Cassandra had kept fairly busy, leaving me to spend my free time with Selina and Barbara as well as Jim. After spending the beginning of my recovery with Dick at me side almost every step of the way, it had been odd only seeing him a few times a week, if that.

Once the winter had hit, I had been pleased to find Dick and Tim spending more time at the Manor. Given that it was my first winter following my accident, they had done their best to make sure it was an enjoyable first experience.

That had included decorating the tree, making snow forts and having contests to see who could fit the most marshmallows in their mouth as opposed to letting them simply metl in cups of hot chocolate.

Dick had won by one and a half marshmallows.

Upon arriving home with the tree, Dick and I had worked together to untie it from the car roof before carrying it into the house through the service entrance. The house had been empty, with Alfred taking Selina to a doctor's appointment. I had offered to drive her but she had insisted I spend the day with Dick. Her reasoning had been that once the baby was born, I wasn't allowed to have any fun.

With the massive tree situated in the den, ready for lights and glass ornaments, Dick had commented, "Best one yet."

"You think so?" I had inquired.

"Definitely… then again, when I was a kid, Alfred always picked it out… looked for the less full ones so he would have less needles to clean up."

I had smiled, glancing over the thick branches, "Hope he doesn't mind."

As he set a hand on my shoulder, Dick had assured me, "This year… it's anything you want, Bruce."

We had decorated the tree ourselves, starting with wrapping it with white lights before adorning gold garners and red, gold and green bulbs and balls. Using the ladder, Dick had me top the tree off with a large gold star, one Alfred had said was in the Wayne Family for three generations. Needless to say, I showed extra caution in placing it, careful to make sure it was secure before letting go.

As I had made it back to ground level, Selina and Alfred had stepped into the den, instantly admiring our efforts. Dick had approached the far wall, instructing me to plug in the lights just as he turned off those that were overhead. The room had filled with a soft, warm glow, captivating us all.

Perfect.

"Is that it?" I heard Barbara ask.

Her father surveyed the room and said, "Looks like."

Glancing up, the tree still looked as magnificent as the day we had decorated it. I quickly rose from the sofa, knowing there was one final gift waiting in the reading room across the hall. Rather than wrap it, I carefully put the gift in a large yellow gift bag, holding the twine handles as well as the bottom to support it. Returning to the den, I smiled at Alfred before sitting down again, offering the bag to Selina.

"Another one, Bruce? You didn't have to…" she grinned excitedly and pushed aside the single piece of tissue paper in order to look inside. After a moment, her face grew serious and she looked over at me.

I nodded, "Go ahead."

By then, everyone in the room had paused in order to see what Selina had gotten.

Her hands dipped inside before she lifted a small black kitten from the bag. It mewed softly and batted at her face playfully. Selina's face beamed with animation as she brought it to her face and kissed its tiny head softly. Holding the kitten to her chest, she leaned over and kissed me, "Thank you, Bruce, she's gorgeous."

"Your welcome," I offered quietly.

As Alfred began to direct everyone to the dining room for brunch, we chose to remain behind. The kitten sat on Selina's shoulder for a few moments before daring to climb the back of the couch towards me. As the small black creature batted at the back of my head, I heard Selina say, "Isis."

"Isis," I concurred.

"I love her… Bruce, she's perfect."

"I'm glad. That you like her."

She reached over and lifted the kitten gently before setting her on the cushion between us. As Isis batted at a piece of shiny ribbon, Selina reached behind her, retrieving a gift from the end table. Handing it to me, she said, "One last gift."

I smirked sheepishly and opened it. Inside was a silver framed photograph of Selina and myself. She wore a stunning blue gown and her dark hair was curled and pinned up. I wore a tuxedo and a grin as my arm snaked around her hips. We were at some sort of dance, given the similarly garbed couples that were in the out of focus background.

I didn't remember it at all.

She pointed at it, "That was this spring… I know how much you like looking at old photographs… figured you could use a new one."

My reflection on the spotless frame showed me smiling, jus as I had been in the photograph. Setting it down in my lap, glanced up at her, "Thank you."

"You know, actions speak louder than words," she teased.

We kissed until Isis protested, mewing softly and clawing her way up my robe.

"Looks like we're going to have two babies," I commented as I pulled away.

"Ah, well in that case, I'll take care of this one, you can have the other one… at least until she's toilet trained."

"Or he," I interjected.

She rolled her eyes before patting my cheek roughly, "If it's a boy, you're taking care of him until he's in college.'

^V^

Sitting back in my dining room chair, I patted my full stomach, "Well, I am full."

Barbara rolled her eyes, "Yeah, you're full of something, Dick."

The group laughed at me for the second time that morning and I felt my ears grow hot. Instead of one of my well-known comebacks, I took the last cinnamon roll from the glass platter and grumbled incoherently. Brunch had been another successful Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth feast, including pastries, miniature quiches, bacon and cheddar croissants and divine cherry tarts. Growing up, Alfred had only Bruce and myself to feed on holidays, but with the Family becoming larger, so had the meals. And the more food Alfred made, the happier I was.

A month earlier at Thanksgiving, dinner had lasted nearly two hours. The highlight had not been the divine turkey or melt in your mouth twice baked potatoes. Instead, it had been an impromptu pie-eating contest between myself, Tim, Cass and Selina. Selina only won because she was eating for two.

When Alfred began to clear the table, Barbara's sharp nails dug into my thigh. In order to spare my femoral artery, I rose from my seat and promptly grabbed the plates from Alfred's hands, "Have a seat, Al. I've got it. Cass, you want to help?"

Having stolen my cinnamon bun, she shook her head, "Sorry, still eating."

As the others distracted Alfred with light conversation, I quickly cleared the table in order to prevent him from joining my efforts. Upon my first trip into the kitchen, I had smiled in awe. Even though Alfred had just prepared a massive meal,the room was spotless. Not even a dollop of icing or a smudge of flour. The man was a culinary idol.

Knowing it would save Alfred the trouble, I rinsed and set the dishes in the rarely used dishwasher upon obtaining all of the used dishware after three trips to the dining room. Cass joined me in the kitchen but rather than help clean, she was on guard duty, deterring Alfred each time he tried to set foot in the kitchen. He reluctantly surrendered three times, muttering "bloody" something under his breath.

When my task was accomplished, I joined the others in the dining room, bearing a fresh carafe of coffee and a tray of cups and saucers. Alfred rose to serve but I tsked him, "Please, you wouldn't let me get you a gift, least I can do is poor coffee for you,"

He harrumphed to himself but relented without delay.

Christmas morning had been the grand finale of a month long effort to make sure we had a holiday season to remember. We all had worked tirelessly, Bruce included, over the last eight months, striving to put the same energy and focus into our Family life as we had done previously with out professional lives. In my time behind the cowl, Gotham had been blessed with lower crime rates then we had seen in some time. No inmate breakouts, no plagues depopulating the city, no one threatening to poison the reservoirs… just the plain, run of the mill criminals who couldn't keep their greed and lust for power in check.

Calm before the storm, I kept reminding myself.

Thankfully, Tim had come to accept how our lives had changed and was once again as integral to the Family as he had been before Bruce had been shot. There had been a few months when he had lost hope, the overwhelming realization forcing him into an out of character funk. He was the one who had always been able to adapt quickly and analyze situations without a moment's notice, just like Bruce. And also, just as his mentor, when things became too much, he buried inside, avoiding the comfort offered by those around him.

As we slowly regained our bearings following brunch, I once again thought out the plans for the afternoon. Snowmobiling on the freshened trails, perhaps a race once we were out on the back stretch. Bruce's near instinctual reflexes were as sharp as ever, as was his learning curve. I had to remind myself daily that the really the only thing different about him was that he was missing one key piece to the puzzle that was his mind.

Aside from hot chocolate alter that afternoon and maybe a movie in the entertainment den, the slate was fairly clear and relaxed. Alfred wanted to host a "simple" dinner later in the evening so that Tim would be able to join us, but I figured it would be anything but simple. Then, leaving Bruce in the capable hands of Selina and Alfred, the rest of us would depart for a merry Christmas patrol.

My attention shift when I noticed Jim rising to his feet as Barbara pushed away from the table. Although he had been more than welcome to stay the day, Jim had declined in order to spend a quiet afternoon at home doing absolutely nothing. A rare treat for the commissioner of police, it was one he wasn't about to deny himself. I stood as well and offered my hand, "Sure you don't want to stay?"

Jim smirked, "Oh, I'll leave you boys to play with your toys. I'm aiming for a nap in the recliner."

Barbara shook her head, "After we drop the Toys for Tots off… since someone managed to forget to do it every day this week…"

As she sent an incriminating glare in my direction, I shrugged, "It's still Christmas for another twelve hours."

I watched on as the Gordon's bid their farewells to everyone. Barbara would be back up later in the day, wanting to catch up on some housework and also to indulge in some down time. She hugged Bruce and kissed him on the cheek before she did the same to Selina, adding a small wave to her swollen abdomen, "See you soon, little one."

"Little lady," Selina joked, still certain it was going to be a girl.

"Or gentleman," Bruce corrected her.

Selina promptly slapped his cheek and told him to get her another glass of milk.

Nothing like a Wayne Christmas.

^V^

Shortly after brunch, Tim had arrived from next door, bearing a few gift bags and a dusting of snow on his red and blue winter hat. Dick had been quick to joke, "About time, Stan Marsh!"

Tim had snickered back, "Shut up, Cartman."

I didn't get it.

From there, the Family had divided. Alfred had taken to the kitchen to begin preparing pies for dinner, Selina had gone upstairs to rest for a few hours with her new kitten and Bruce, Dick and Tim had gone outdoors to play in the snow. Wanting to do none of those things, I had taken to sitting in the leather recliner before the Christmas tree, just staring at it.

In my brief time in Gotham, I had experienced and witnessed more than I had in my entire life. I had learned to speak and write and I had developed social skills and friendships. I was part of a Family who cared about me as opposed to using me for their own purposes. I laughed, I joked, I sang, I played. I was fifteen years old and for the first time, I was happy.

But not all that I had experienced had been good.

I had seen my mentor fall, reduced to mental infancy that took months to correct. I had stood by as a an ally tried to fill the void, unable to entirely commit to the guise. I watched my closest friend give up on the man who had taught him so much. These events belonged on the battlefield, not amidst a Family.

"Am I intruding, Miss Cassandra?"

I glanced over my shoulder to see Alfred entering the den. Smiling, I shook my head before looking back to the tree.

Alfred approached me, standing just to the left of my chair, "A magnificent tree, isn't it?" When I had nodded again, he continued, "I can not recall the last time this house hosted a more joyous Christmas."

I guessed to myself that it had been the last one before Bruce's parents had been shot.

After a few silent minutes, I said, "I miss him."

Without needing any further explanation, he responded, "As do I, my dear."

"Ever go back… way he was?" I asked as I turned to face him, drawing my legs up against my chest.

He sighed softly, "We can hope that there will be a day when Master Bruce is able to regain all that he has lost. But… it is a selfish hope, wanting him to become what he is no longer… what he once was. Instead, we should hope that he now has a life he would have never granted himself, a life he would have never hoped for."

A life without danger, without risk.

A life with a woman who loved him enough to bear his child.

A life that wasn't good enough for him…

I nodded before resting my chin between my knees. Alfred paused before asking if there was anything I needed and when I declined, he quietly excused himself. Rather than remain alone in the den, I rose to my feet and followed him. He glanced back only once, and I wasn't surprised to see him smiling.

We trekked to the kitchen in silence and for the remainder of the afternoon, I helped him prepare dishes and desserts for dinner. There was a stuffed goose cooking in the oven, slowly begin to emit an aroma that quickly overcame those already present. from the look of things, it was going to be quite a feast.

Just as Alfred and I took a short break for hot chocolate, faint whirring sounds approached the Manor. We both looked out the large kitchen window to see three snowmobiles barreling across the flat lawn. I smirked to see that the leader was Bruce.

Not ten minutes later, the three of them entered the house through the service entrance, having already removed their winter wear and boots. As Alfred poured three additional mugs of the fresh hot chooclate, I watched as they passed through the kitchen's arched entrance. They were all red-faced, damp haired and out of breath.

As Dick shook bits of snow from his hair, Alfred scolded him for doing so indoors as opposed to outdoors. Dick had tried to defend himself by saying that it was snowing outdoors and doing so there would have been pointless.

I took to leaning against the island counter, amused that the man upholding the cowl was trying to argue his way out of a lecture from Alfred. As Bruce leaned against the counter beside me, I realized that he would have been in the same predicament if he had still been Batman. He leaned over and whispered, "He's in trouble now."

Looking in his eyes, I found myself thinking back to the night Pasqualle had shot him, suiting up in the Cave. Alfred and Bruce had been arguing about his bailing on a Wayne Foundation fundraiser that evening. Tim had leaned over and snickered, "He's in trouble now."

Bruce had naturally heard him and ordered us to leave, with touring the docks firs ton our list to do.

Good old days.

I had tried to be happy for him over the course of the year, that he was finally a normal person with a relatively normal life.

I just couldn't do it.

Selfish be damned, all I wanted for Christmas was for him to come back.

^V^

Sitting on the floor in front of the bed, I teased Isis with a strand of silver ribbon I had saved from unwrapping gifts earlier. Selina remerged from the bathroom in her pajamas chose to sit on the edge of the bed, setting her hands on my shoulders. "Bruce?"

"Hmm," I replied without looking up at her.

"Names, Bruce, we were going to discuss names."

"I thought we named her Isis?" I glanced up to see her brow narrowing, to which I quickly replied, "Just kidding."

"Okay, so girl names," she began.

It had been a running gag for some time that she believed it was going to be girl. Although I was apt to go with her instinct, I had chosen to outwardly declare my first born to be a boy. It had certainly made for an entertaining debate over the course of the year, one which was soon to be decided upon once and for all.

I felt as if I should have been more nervous about her impending delivery, but in all honesty, I felt as if I was prepared. Maybe not for the delivery itself, but for fatherhood. I had obviously done a fine job raising Dick, with Alfred's help, so raising another with him ass well as Selina wasn't a cause for concern. The nursery was ready, Leslie had gone over the delivery with us dozens of times and Selina had been practicing breathing exercises and yoga positions to aide her in the final act.

Really, all we needed was a name.

"I would say Martha," I began, "But… it's kind of an old fashioned name."

Selina began kneading my shoulders, "Well, then how about Mattie?"

"As in short for Martha?"

"Yes, as in short for Martha."

As her fingers worked away a knot in my left trapezium, I nodded, "I like it."

"Middle name?" she continued.

I let my head loll back, "What, no break in between each name?"

She flicked my forehead with a fingernail and said, "We've put it off long enough, Bruce…"

"Fine… Mattie Marie?"

"No alliteration," she growled.

I quirked, "So then I guess Mattie Moo is out of the question." I waited a beat before suggesting, "Mattie Cake."

"No nursery rhymes," she declared.

With a sigh, I looked down to Isis as she rolled onto her back, her paws batting at the ribbon her tiny, clawed grasp, "Can't we just move on to the boy name?"

"Bruce, it's going to be a girl."

After a beat, I suggested, "Mattie Elizabeth. Wayne."

Selina leaned forward, pressing her lips to my ear, "I love it."

"And for a boy…" I said, carefully taking the ribbon from Isis, crumbling it up into a ball and throwing it for her.

After watching the kitten masterfully pounce on the ribbon, chasing and dragging it across the carpet and into the closet, Selina finally relented, "I've always liked Jonathan. Jonathan Thomas."

"So, Mattie Elizabeth and Jonathan Thomas..." I nodded, "Sounds good."

Selina pinched at my neck, "Mattie or Jonathon. Not both."

"I meant for later on," I leaned back against the side of the bed, resting between her legs.

She shook her head, "This is a one-time deal, bubs… And go get the kitten before she gets into trouble."

Rising to my feet, I felt the fatigue in my muscles from the long day. It had felt good, spending it with the Family but I was physically and mentally exhausted. Good thing Christmas came but once a year.

Stepping into the massive closet, I heard soft purring and followed it to the far right corner. Isis had found herself trouble and had traded the ribbon for what appeared to be a paper bag. It had been sitting in a open wooden box of winter socks and sweaters, one, I hadn't honestly noticed before as it sat below a rack of shoes. Pulling the box out into the light, I wiggled my fingers in front of the kitten's face and she batted at them playfully.

Knelling, I went to replace the items she had pushed around in the box, pausing at the small yellow bag. Was it another Christmas present? With no tag on it, I carefully peered inside of it, finding a small velvet box buried amidst white tissue paper.

"Well, let's see if curiosity kills the cat, Isis," I mumbled and opened the jewelry box.

A white gold band rested inside, set with a large, square cut diamond. I carefully pulled the ring out, catching the engraving on the inside of the band.: _Are diamonds forever? Time will tell…_

My heart began to thump in my chest.

I took a deep breath and replaced the ring into the box and then into the bag. Everyone had said that Selina and I had been close prior to the accident, obviously close enough for her to be pregnant. I must have bought the ring with the intention of proposing marriage. But why was the ring hidden in my closet and not on her finger?

Why had I changed my mind… or rather, what had stopped me?

The kitten stared up at me with big blue eyes of innocence.

When I had found out she was pregnant with my child, I had already known that I loved her. I had wanted her to live with me, I had wanted to be with her forever. She and I were together like a married couple in every sense but actual marriage.

But why hadn't I proposed?

_Time will tell…_

It was the right thing to do,

Leaving the ribbon, Isis padded out of the closet, bounding with her tail straight in the air.

"Bruce, you get lost in there?" came Selina's voice suddenly.

I took a deep breath and looked at the bag once more, then towards the door.

"Bruce? Don't make me come and get you…"

Bag.

Door.

"Oh, Miss Isis, did you lose your shiny toy?"

Bag.

Door.

I emerged from the closet, nervous and unsure of my decision.

There had been a time when I would have never doubted myself, but I wasn't that man anymore.

Selina had just settled under the covers, the kitten swatting at her toes as they wiggled under the blankets. I approached the bed and sat beside her, leaning into kiss her.

"Mmm, Christmas cheer?" she asked with a smile as I pulled away. Then she asked, "Bruce, what's that? You find another Christmas gift?"

^V^


	15. Time Will Tell: XIV

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been modified from its original version to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

After spending a long, unforgiving night patrolling not only Gotham, but Bludhaven as well, I had navigated to my apartment on auto-pilot. Disrobing my dampened suit, I collapsed onto the bed, rolling in order to bury myself underneath down blankets and flannel sheets.

Nestled in my cocoon, at ten minutes after six in the morning, I sighed, "Night night."

And then the phone rang.

Rather than untangle myself, I simply let it ring. The answering machine from the hall announced, "Hi, this is Dick Grayson. I am out at the moment so leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

Beep.

"Uh, Dick. You're there. I know that you are because I called Barbara and she said you weren't there and you are obviously not here... Pick up. Please, Dick," Bruce stumbled over his words.

I managed to unearth an arm and reached out blindly for the phone on my nightstand. No, that was a shoe. No, that was some sort of piece of food. Ah, phone.

After clearing my throat, I asked, "What's wrong, Bruce?"

He replied, out of breath, "You need to come back to here, right now. I need your help."

"Alfred is there, Bruce, just go wake him up…"

"I know he's here… so is Leslie and… just… I need you to be here, Dick1"

I slowly sat up in bed, the blankets keeping my arm pressed to my side, "Leslie, why is Leslie there?"

"Selina, she… she was having contractions last night and they weren't bad and then all of the sudden they were really bad and…"

I shot straight out of bed and ran about the room, barely untangling myself in time to land on my feet. Randomly gathering articles of reasonably clean clothing, I spoke into the phone, "Bruce, why didn't you say she was having the baby to begin with?"

"I don't know!" he barked, then sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm just scared… and Selina is screaming… threatening to kill me…"

"Don't be scared. Tell her to wait for me and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay, hurry, I doubt she wants this to last any longer than it has to."

In the week since New Year's day, Selina had grown ever impatient with her impending child's arrival. She had it with the swollen ankles, the cramps, the headaches, the backaches, the rashes and the martial artist sired infant kicking her every ten minutes. She had tried on numerous occasions to convince Bruce into letting her have induced labor to get it done and over with but he, and her obstetrician, had been adamant against it. She had feared she would go passed her due date, something that none of us would have survived in one piece.

Every hour of the first ten days that she had not gone into labor, Bruce received a new degrading name. And he always replied the same thing.

Yes, dear.

Since summer, Tim and I had been making jokes about Bruce being literally whipped by Selina in their relationship and seeing him cower in fear of her had put us over the edge. Alfred had caught us laughing about it once in the Cave and had simply rolled his eyes before walking away in disgust.

Thinking of him, I dialed Tim's cell phone after grabbing my keys and leather jacket. I would have taken the cycle but the wind chill would have sent me right back to my downy, heavenly bed. He answered on the second ring in a hushed voice, "Hey."

"Hey, so apparently today is the big day."

"I know… I'm here… skipping school for the day… bad idea."

"Why's that?"

I heard muffled screaming in the background before he replied, "Leslie thinks it might be too late for an epidural… she flew through dilation… Selina is… not happy."

The screams came more loudly, "Are you in the room?"

"No… I'm at the end of the hall."

No wonder Bruce had been terrified.

"Fear not, Robin… I'm on my way."

Through the course of the drive, my mind was flooded with questions that none of the satellite radio stations seemed to be able to drown out. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would it be healthy? Had they decided on a name? Was Selina going to kill Bruce? Would they live happily ever after?

From what I heard through the Family grapevine, Bruce had proposed to Selina on Christmas. I honestly could not recall seeing an engagement ring on her finger the four times I had seen her since the holiday where Barbara was adamant she had seen something. I had asked her to try and access security camera footage at Wayne Manor to spy on them in order to find out for sure but she had declined.

"what's the big deal?"

"Do you want to look into their bedroom when they think they are alone?"

"She's nine months pregnant," I had smirked.

Barbara had been quick to point out, "Just how do you think labor is induced naturally?"

"Gross," I had gulped.

Bruce and Selina. I had always thought of them together as Batman and Catwoman, seeing how their unmasked relationship had ended just before I came into his life. Growing up, I was never as oblivious as I had let on in regards to the sexual tension between my mentor and his feline foe. Whenever we had pursued her, I had always waited to jump into the scene when she would have her whip around his stomach and her claws tracing his muscles, their faces being mere inches from each other.

After a few interruptions, he started to send me to look for evidence or secure the Batmobile so they could have a moment alone.

Now, they would never be alone.

^V^

"BRUCE I HATE YOU!" Selina screamed, before giving into hasty panted breaths.

I grimaced as she squeezed the life out of my hand, ignoring my offered words of comfort. When Leslie had arrived two hours earlier, Selina had been fairly calm and composed, enduring the pains of contractions with a grimace and a growl. First sign of contractions had started a little after six the previous night, although they had been manageable enough for Selina to sleep through most of the night. Show woke me around four in the morning, hitting me square in the face before screaming at me to call Leslie.

However scared I might have been that our child was about to be born, I was more worried about living long enough to see it.

Alfred had already contacted Leslie the night before and she had planned on coming up around five in the morning no matter what. While we waited, Selina took a warm bath, through an unlit candle at the mirror hard enough to shatter it and then felt well enough to walk around for a bit, the kitten playfully following her. When Leslie had arrived, she was quick to examine her for progression of labor.

"We've got quite a way to go, only about three centimeters… contractions are still more than ten minutes apart," Leslie had confirmed.

Selina had groaned, expecting to be further along after nearly twelve hours.

"We should go to the hospital then, right?" I had asked.

Selina, Alfred and Leslie looked at one another in a silent conversation. Alfred then spoke, "Master Bruce, it is Ms. Selina's desire to have your child here… at the Manor."

"It is?" I had looked to her.

She had looked surprised but then said, "Oh… right… I mean… Leslie here… and… I really hate hospitals."

"What if something happens?" I had asked, worry creeping into my voice.

Leslie had then assure me after setting a hand on my face, "Everything is going to be all right."

Something had suddenly flashed in front of my eyes, of Leslie doing the same for a much younger version of myself.

There had been blood on my hands and knees…

Before Selina had been hooked up to an EEG, an IV for fluids and a fetal heart rate monitor, we had moved her and the equipment into the bedroom down the hall. I had asked why she hadn't wanted to have it in our bed and she had slapped my cheek softly, "That's a happy place. And I'd like to keep it that way."

We worked through the next dozen contractions hand in hand, Selina growing increasingly violent as her pain levels increased. Leslie had said that an epidural was possible but that it was in the best interest to let things proceed naturally. To that, Selina had screamed, "Not in my best interest!"

After a course of Demerol, she was still in pain but at least not to the extent that she was going to hurt anyone.

As it approached eight-thirty in the morning, her water had broken, she was eight centimeters dilated and having vicious, minute long contractions every three minutes. Leslie said it was the transition stage and should last no longer than an hour. Sixty minutes and our child would be born, writhing and crying and alive and well…

Mattie Elizabeth. Or Jonathan Thomas.

Rather than go the route on an epidural or spinal block, Selina and Leslie had already agreed to having anesthetics injected into the cervix. The injection had been made just as he had reached five centimeters and would last for the remainder of labor, offering relief without hindering Selina's efforts.

From the red marks on my hands from her squeezing and clawing, I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like had she chosen a natural childbirth. No doubt I wouldn't even have a hand… or an arm.

Just as the next contraction started up, Leslie and Alfred emerged from the attached bathroom with clean towels and a large bowl of warm water. As he set their gain on a nearby by table, Leslie took a peak underneath the sheet that covered Selina's propped legs. Selina forcibly pushed air out of her moth as she dug her nails into the my hand.

"Every two minutes now," Leslie commented as she stood upright, "Selina, we're going to get started okay? I'll do the episiotomy with a local anesthetic, then we're going to start pushing."

"Who's idea was this?" Selina groaned as the contraction ebbed.

"Not mine,," I smirked nervously. I quickly moved on the bed beside her, moving to sit behind her to offer a brace for the next stage of labor. My torso was suddenly met with her arched back and quivering muscles, her form already wary of the next contraction.

Before it took hold of her, Selina looked up at me, "Bruce?"

"Yes?" I asked before putting a cold washcloth to her brow.

"We do this again… you're having it."

^V^

Until the rest of the Family had arrived, I had been alone, meandering the halls of Wayne Manor, trying to find something to do or a room far away enough that I wouldn't hear parturition induced screams. Realistically, the only safe place was the Cave but I knew Alfred would have frowned down upon it. He had suggested tending to school work seeing how I was cutting my morning classes for the grand event but I had no interest in reading through my Health class book, given the circumstances.

I found recluse in the kitchen, making an easy breakfast of two bagels with peanut butter, a pear and a heaping bowl of cereal. When the service door opened at a little after seven, I had just finished my first bagel, peanut butter sealing my mouth shut. Barbara and Cass appeared, both far more excited than I had been. Something about girls and babies, something sixteen year-olds such as myself had no interest in. I was happy for Bruce and Selina, and it was exciting to welcome a baby into the Family for the first time, but I couldn't find it in myself to giggle and have sparkly eyes…

As the two had departed into the hall, I had called out after them that everyone was on the third floor but no doubt Barbara already knew every detail, down to the last centimeter of dilation. I had expected Cass to linger behind for breakfast but sighed when she vanished.

Alone again, my thoughts drifted to

"Hey, are those Oh's?"

I glanced up to see Dick stepping through the kitchen entrance.

Nodding, I pointed out the yellow cereal box I had left out on the counter. I knew they were Selina's, seeing how neither Bruce nor Alfred would have indulged in them.

Dick poured some into his hand, tossing them in his mouth before crunching, "Man, really is the best cereal… Aside from Cinnamon Toast Crunch…" After another handful, he asked, "Where is everybody?"

"Upstairs."

"Nothing like a good old timey home delivery."

"Yeah," my ears thought they had detected a faint scream but I tried to convince myself it was just my imagination before continuing, "Feel bad… lying to him."

"Well, going to the hospital raises lots of questions. Much easier to take care of things here… We can run any blood tests needed downstairs, Barbara's on the birth certificate task force anything else, Leslie and Alfred can handle. Worst case scenario, we load everyone up in the Bat-ambulance and take them to Memorial." He snuck a hand out and stole my second bagel, "Besides, Selina's got good birthing hips."

"Did you just say that out loud?" I asked in disbelief, "If she had heard you-."

"What? I don't' mean… that, it's just… her costume didn't ever leave much to the imagination. And at any rate, she can't possibly hear me over the… exciting and… exhilarating experience of having a baby."

After a beat, I resumed working on my cereal as Dick ate my bagel. He retrieved a carafe of milk from the fridge and I was surprised that he retrieved a glass from the cabinet as opposed to drinking from the pitcher. Then again, no matter how distracted Alfred was as all knowing as Bruce had once been.

"Barbara tell you?" Dick asked after downing eight ounces.

"Tell me what?"

"About the engagement?"

I nodded again, "Yeah… wonder why he didn't do it when we were all here?"

"Beats me," Dick replied taking a seat on the stool next to me, "Kind cements everything, though." I asked what he meant and he explained, "How things have changed. I mean, Bruce never would have proposed to her, no matter how much he loved her… Hell, he wouldn't have proposed because of how much he loved her… how he wouldn't want her to get hurt."

"Right," I sighed, thinking of all the people had had driven away over the years for the same reason. Not just girlfriends, but allies of both Bruce Wayne and Batman. He had always been a firm believer in keeping his enemies much closer to him than his friends.

Had…

We sat in silence until our bowls and plates were emptied, rinsed and put in the dishwasher. He had looked to me and I nodded before we made the trek upstairs. The screams grew louder with each step and I could feel my heart beating faster. I could only imagine what condition Bruce was in.

Barbara and Cassandra were waiting diligently outside of the closed bedroom door. Dick and I chose to take a seat on a small sofa a few feet away, knowing if we staye don our feet we would end up pacing. A long, painful scream sounded followed by soft words in Leslie's soothing voice.

"Well, where are we at, O?" Dick asked.

Barbara rolled her eyes before reporting, "Fully dilated, baby is in a perfect position. Selina is regretting not having an epidural and she is going to kill Bruce if he ever impregnates her again."

"So we are moving in the right direction, then… good," he mused.

Cass took a seat on the floor across from the door, the excitement all but gone from her face. Barbara caught me looking at her and was quick to explain, "When Alfred came out to update us… she saw… Well, let's just say, she's decided to never have children."

Poor, sweet, innocent Cassandra…. Better her than me, though.

The shouting and crying lessened for a moment and I thought it was all over.

That was until something shattered against the wall in the room followed by a loud pounding sound. Dick and I rose to my feet, worried for our former mentor's well being when the door opened from within. Leslie, red-faced, asked us to retrieve more pillows form the linen cupboard.

"Is everything okay?" Dick asked as he turned around, retrieving three down filled pillows from the small closet.

"Oh, fine.. Just… She's trying to distract herself from the pain by banging her head on the headboard. Figured we'd pad the hard surfaces down before we go any further."

Thinking how strong and willful Selina was, in and out of the mask, the thought of her literally loosing her mind in pain forced me to join Cass's position on never having children.

Ever.

^V^

Had Master Thomas and Ms. Martha still been with us, they would have welcomed to the world their firstborn granddaughter, a writhing, lively infant with crystalline blue eyes and wisps of dark hair.

With Master Bruce's permission, I had brought Mattie Elizabeth Wayne to the world, although truly the honors rested with Ms. Selina's valiant efforts. Child birth, in any form, was a tiring and painful process, one that Master Brcue's love had managed to survive. Although the porcelain vase and the antique table lamps had not…

The first cries of life brought relief to the exhausted parents, as well as to myself and Leslie. Promptly cleaning her and checking vitals, she was deemed to be in perfect form with all of her fingers and toes accounted for. Wrapped in a sterile towel, I carefully offered her to the open arms of her mother, watching as all the pain and frustration ebbed from her beautiful face. The newborn cried and cried at her new surroundings, but soon settled into her mother's arms. I felt a stirring in my chest, the same feeling I had once endured when Master Bruce had returned alive or whenever I had looked upon Master Dick in secret awe.

The stirring had been without a doubt a swelling of pride.

What Master Bruce had lost, he had gained tenfold, most notably in his second chance at life. The life his parents had desired for him, as well as myself. An existence with loved ones and the safety of normalcy, a chance to live long enough to see the birth of his children's children. Had he not been given the path of life which he currently led, I dreaded he would have lived his remaining years as he had spent those that had come before.

Alone.

Carefully, I opened the bedroom door and glanced into the corridor to see the Family gathered and waiting impatiently. Drawing attention to myself by clearing my throat, the group glanced up, worried smiles growing over their faces. Masters Dick and Tim rose to their feet and approached with synchronized strides while Miss Cassandra remained seated on the floor and Ms. Barbara in her chair.

"Well?" Master Dick asked.

"I am unable to inform you of their progress…" I began.

"Oh, Alfred, come on, what's going on?" Master Tim pleaded.

"I apologize. There is someone else who would wish to tell you bring you up to speed…"

"Bruce?" Ms. Barbara inquired.

I shook my head and opened the door further. The silence of the hall was pierced with a shrill infantile cry. Joy washed over their faces as I closed the door, quieting the great hall. "Master Bruce and Ms. Kyle will introduce you to Miss Mattie in due time."

"Mattie?" Miss Cassandra finally spoke up as she stood.

"Mattie Elizabeth, to be exact," Ms. Barbara explained before looking to me, "That's what they decided, right?"

I nodded curtly, "And it suits her well." Leslie called for me form within the room and I went to excuse myself.

Master Dick stepped forward, "What is it? Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine. Ms. Selina has reached… the third stage of labor… I shall return when they are ready for visitors."

"The third stage?" Master Tim wondered aloud.

She simply stared at him, "And now, class, what comes after the birth?"

He shuddered, "Never mind, I shouldn't have asked..."

Master Dick took another step forward, standing up on his toes in order to peer over me and into the room. Before retreating and closing the door, I reminded him, "In due time, Richard."

Leaving the Family to relish in the new addition, I returned to find the child had quieted, nestled in her father's arms. He had remained sitting behind Ms. Selina, although she had shifted in order to allow him room to hold their daughter. His massive form miniaturized the infant, his single hand more then capable of cradling the child's head. Ms. Selina carefully put a hand on his forearm before leaning in to kiss the newborn's forehead and then Master Bruce's cheek.

Dr. Thompkins and I stood in silent wonderment, a long lost dream of ours finally realized. He was happy and he was loved.

The lost little boy we had raised was now embarking on his own parental journey. God's gifts, however little, were indeed worthwhile; my father had always told me. This gift was greater than any I had ever received.

In a quiet whisper, we heard Master Bruce say, "Mattie."

After handing the child back to Ms. Selina, he then wrapped his freed arms around her, holding onto his newly acquired family.

I felt Leslie's hand settle on my elbow and when I looked to her, she nodded towards the bathroom door. Leaving them alone for a moment, she carefully closed us in before launching her arms around m neck. I gently placed mine around her waist, settling my chin on her shoulder. There had been no need for words, given that we had shared the same love for Master Bruce since he was a young boy. Becoming surrogate parents to him had never been our intention, but having stood by him through triumph and tragedy for so many years, there had been no other choice.

After several moments, Leslie released me, kissing me on the lips softly before excusing herself, "Time to start the Mommy 101 class."

"Time to start preparing breakfast," I countered.

Leaving her to tend to Ms. Selina and little Miss Mattie, I passed through the bedroom and returned once more to the corridor. Not eight minutes earlier, I had informed the Family of the successful birth of the first Wayne child in over three decades. In the brief time that had elapsed, the gathering in the hall had grown to included nearly a dozen more individuals, but an equal number of flowers and balloon arrangements.

Gazing over the group, I quickly recognized Mr. Kent and his wife Lois in civilian attire, Ms. Prince, Mr. J'onnz and Mr. West in their colorfully hued uniforms and Mr. Rayner, Mr. O'Brien, Mr. Harper and Ms. Zatara sporting disheveled pajamas of varying interest. When they spotted me, their hushed conversations diminished and looks of excitement were directed towards me,

"Oh, dear," I muttered under my breath as I made my way throw the group and towards the stairs.

Master Dick fell under my gaze and simply stared at me as opposed to explaining the sudden presence of so many unexpected visitors.

I asked promptly, "May I question as to how the welcoming wagon arrived so quickly, sir?"

He gulped for breath, "Um, well, you know news travels fast."

Mr. Harper laughed at his friend's predicament, "You're the one who sent a mass e-mail to ever-."

Master Dick went to strike at his ally but I intervened with a curt cough, "Master Dick, you will see to it that everyone is escorted to the den and remains there until brunch is prepared."

"Yes, sir," he answered, suddenly reduced to being a ten-year-old.

"And that entails, what sir?"

He sighed before answering, "No tours, no touching of anything… and no more e-mails."

^V^

"Alfred is going to kill me, isn't he?" Dick asked, although it was obviously a rhetorical question.

Shaking my head, I replied, "Of course not… you can't legally be claimed sa being murdered if they can't find the body."

"Thanks, Babs… thanks a lot," he sighed before turning to his guests.

"Don't mention it," I called out before making my way to the elevator at the end of the corridor. In all honesty, I had warned him about making it public knowledge that Bruce had a baby girl born that morning. IT would have been one thing to politely contact Clark, seeing how he was already aware of Selina's pregnancy as well as Bruce's condition. But to let the entire JLA know…

Bruce's reserve status prior to the shooting in May had made it fairly easy to avoid dick's involvement in their activities over the course of the year. Clark, finally fed up with being lied to, had made an appearance at the Manor, forcing us to tell him the truth. Given his strong, albeit strained, relationship with Bruce, he had been willing to carry o the façade for us, lying to his fellow League members.

Their being strewn about the globe, it had made it easier to maintain that Bruce was fine and that he just wanted to focus on Gotham for the time being.

Their being present in Gotham City, in Wayne Manor to be exact, made the task impossible.

All it took was for one of them to approach Bruce…

I had deemed Dick e-mailing everyone on his Blackberry as a lapse into temporary insanity. There was no other logical explanation for the message to appear on the communication devices of the collected group of heroes who knew the man behind the bat. Namely, a message declaring: Bruce's Bat-Baby has arrived! 19 inches, 7 lbs, 6 oz!"

Reaching the main floor, I navigated towards the kitchen, expecting my father to arrive shortly. Rather than entering the kitchen, I bypassed it, noting Alfred was hard at work and muttering to himself about manners and cordialities. Offering help was futile as he preferred to work in solitude, knowing where everything was and how it should be.

Just I reached it, the side door opened and my father stepped in, dressed for the day in a worn, but well kept suit. Upon seeing he, he asked, "How are they?"

"Good, great actually. Upstairs resting for a bit, no visitors quite yet…" the look on my face caused him to tilt his.

"But?"

"But… Dick decided to inform a fe of Bruce's former colleagues… and they decided to drop by."

"Ah…" he nodded, "I guess I should be asking what condition Dick is in."

I led the way back towards the front of the house towards the den. On the way, /I had explained that I would have one of the guests, J'onn, to put a mental block on him, keeping him from seeing or hearing the real faces and names of those inside. He had readily agreed, admitting, "Knowing all of your real jobs is more than enough."

Asking him to wait outside, I entered in order to pull J'onn aside from the group who had been talking excitedly. It took little discussion before he nodded his head, "It is done."

"Thank you, J'onn…"

As I turned to leave, he inquired, "I would like to speak with you, for a moment…"

I had a bad feeling as to what he wanted to discuss but I agreed, stating, "After I get my dad settled in."

"Very well, Barbara."

Given how often J'onn took monitor womb duty at the Watchtower, I had spent many late nights in his cyber presence, either researching for the League or simply conversing to pass the time. Of all the League members, save for Bruce and Clark, it was he that I felt the closest to, that I could trust.

I let Dad into the den, made a quick tour of introductions before joining him near the armchairs in front of the cold fireplace. Given the chilly January morning, it would have been nice to have a blazing fire, although not in the proximity of a Martian.

After a few moments of listening to the activity in the room, Dad leaned over and asked, "Does Bruce remember any of these people?"

"No. He's met with Superman, but not anyone else outside of Gotham."

He paused and stared out at the window, "I guess it is a big deal then…" He waited another beat before continuing, "A baby girl… A first for him… you and Cassandra were teenagers when he took you under his wing…"

I smiled, "Selina will make sure he doesn't corrupt her… that and I plan on babysitting every second I can…"

"I'll take you up on that, Barbara," Bruce's voice broke through the murmurs of the room.

Spinning around, I watched as his eyes scanned the room, observing each guest that was present for the strangers they were. I was about to speak when Dick approached him, whispering into his ear before escorting him out of the room. Regrettably, not fast enough as the entire Justice League began applauding him, and approaching to offer their congratulations.

Having pretended to know faces for months, Bruce did well while shaking hands and taking praise.

It was then that I felt an odd sensation wash over me, followed by J'onn's baritone voice, "A word, Barbara?"

Turning to face him, I said, "Dad I'll be right back."

Following J'onn into the corridor, I was thankful that he was willing to discuss things without the telepathic link. He closed the side door after I had passed through, then remained silent, waiting for me to explain.

After a deep breath, I did.

He stood stoically, taking in the news that one of his closest allies had been suffering in silence for so many months. Simply explaining his condition had evolved into revealing his rehabilitation as well as the discovery that he was going to be a father and that he had proposed to Selina and that he was having flashbacks and…

"I would like to help him. In whatever manner I can."

"J'onn… I don't know if… if he should remember…"

Even though he had the ability to, there was no need for him to read my mind, "Because he is finally at peace with life? As opposed to living in the shadow of death…"

"Exactly," I sighed heavily, hating myself for admitting as much.

J'onn paused for a moment, crossing his arms over his broad, bare chest, "I do respect your opinion… However, this is not a decision either of us should make."

He was right.

It was up to Bruce.

^V^


	16. Time Will Tell: XV

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been modified from its original version to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

I felt my bones crunch as the masked man drove his fist into my side.

Ribs splintered and shivered into my already bruised lungs.

I was too weak.

I was going to die.

The massive man picked me up with ease and threw me at the glass display case that stood a few yards away. On impact the glass shattered around me, slicing through my tunic like a knife through butter. Unable to move let alone rise to my feet, I lay sprawled amidst the debris of hard glass. As the man stomped towards me, my burning fingers felt a soft material. I managed to turn my head to see it was a yellow cape.

The man's eyes studied me as my other hand found a small green mask.

In a mere whisper, I managed, "Jason… Robin."

Trembling on weak limbs, I stood and shuffled to the masked man. He stood at seven feet tall and was easily over three hundred pounds of heavy and strong muscles. The eyes of his mask glowed red as blood in the dark cave as white tubes ran from the back of his head to a small control panel on his left arm. Even though his lips were hidden I knew he was smiling.

Even at my best, I couldn't have defeated him.

But I couldn't give up.

I threw a weak blow; my blue glove tattered and bloodstained. He dodged it easily and retaliated with a quick uppercut to my arm in order move it out of the way and then a forceful hook to my cheek, sending the world spinning. Before I could even think of blocking the next blow, his left leg rose and slammed into my face, sending me to the ground.

And as painful as the fall to the granite floor echoing in my joints had been, the reason I had screamed was that a stalagmite impaled my side.

I couldn't…

He grabbed me by the collar of my tunic and hefted me towards him. In a thick Latino accent, he demanded, "Beg for mercy! Scream my name!"

With the remaining strength I had, I growled, "G-go back to… Hell."

Without hesitation he backhanded me before lifting me high above his head his vice like hands gripping me relentlessly as if was going to attempt to break free. It was too late, it was far too late for that…

Blood pounding in my ears, I could no longer hear the fluttering of bat wings from above or the gurgling breaths that escaped my lips.

All I could hear was his voice, "I am Bane, and I could kill you. But death would only end your agony… And silence your shame. Instead I will simply break you!"

And then the deafening shatter of bones as he brought me down on his knee, sending a sudden jolt of fierce pain through every fiber of my body.

And then there was no pain. No voice. No light…

I shot up, drenched in a cold sweat, my breaths heaving from me. Glancing around, it took a moment to realize I was in the safety of my bedroom as opposed to whatever piece of hell I had dreamt of. Looking to my left, I found Selina motionless beside me, Isis curled up at her feet.

The room was silent save for a soft crying, although not coming from me but rather the baby monitor on Selina's nightstand. Seeing how sleep was no longer on my agenda, I rose quickly to turn the volume down before stepping out of the room. Reaching the corridor, I took a few long breaths as I navigated to the next room over. At four months old, Mattie was just starting to sleep in her nursery after living in her bassinet in our bedroom. It was a difficult transition for Selina at first but given my tendancies to wake in the middle of the night, I had done what I could to assure her Mattie was being watched over.

Passing into the nursery, I whispered soothingly before picking her up, carefully unswaddling her in order to check her diaper and pajamas. Her tiny quaking body was warm against my bare chest, and after ending up being clean and dry, I decided she had overheated. I took her into the hall with me and began our late night routine of walking up and down the corridors and stairs and then back again. The alarm clock in the master bedroom had put it at a little after four, and since I had changed her an hour earlier, she most likely needed a little burp and back rub.

Alfred said I was a natural father.

As I toured about, gently trying to soothe my daughter's cries, my mind ventured back to the dream as well as those that had been plaguing me for nearly two months. All were generally violent and were always confusing, full of strange faces and places. I had suffered a number of flashbacks over the course of the last year but none had been so vivid, so painful.

There was a reason, of course.

After Mattie had been born, I had been introduced to a number of my former associates, including a man named John Jones. Although I hadn't believed him at first, he claimed to be a telepathic and wanted to help me regain my memories if I so desired. Rather than decide right away, he had offered to come back at a later time, allowing me to thoroughly think matters over before we proceeded.

I had debated with myself for nearly two months, trying to decide whether I was content with the man I was or if desired to be the man I once was. I had asked the opinions of my Family but each and every one declined, saying it was my choice to make. After asking Dick if I was that different from who I once had been, he had responded, "You are, Bruce… you may not be the same man, but you are a better person."

In the end, I had decided to take the leap, to see if Jones would be able to bring back all that I had lost. Selina had asked why after I had announced my decision, and I had explained that I wanted to be able to tell Mattie about my parents and that I wanted to remember what Dick was like as a boy. I had added that I wanted to remember every minute I had spent with her, although she had hit me in the face with a couch pillow, yelling at me for being too sappy.

There had been other reasons, but I had decided to keep them to myself.

Like how I wanted to know where the dozens of scars on my body had come from.

I needed to find out what had truly caused my amnesia…

And why none of the memories I had regained were happy ones.

As I reached the first floor, Mattie's cries had silenced and her breaths came evenly on my neck. Kissing the top of her head gently, I couldn't help but think back once more to the dream. The details were hazy but the pain I had felt in the nightmare lingered. Whatever life I had lived before seemed to be one that I wouldn't have brought a child into. With my slumbering daughter in my arms, I wondered if I had made a mistake, trying to bring back memories that had once caused so much pain.

I continued rubbing Mattie's back, wanting at least one of us to have a peaceful rest.

^V^

There was a vague sensation of Bruce returning to bed at some point before dawn so when I woke, I naturally expected to see his face beside mine. Instead, I was met with whiskers and a soft purring as Isis rubbed her face against my chin. I pulled the playful kitten to me as I rolled onto my back, tickling her chin and causing the purrs to grow louder.

As she fell asleep on my stomach, I yawned before glancing to the bedside clock. Nearly half passed seven. Although it was a Friday, it was going to be far from an enjoyable day. Mattie had a check-up with her pediatrician, Dr. Marcy, including a panel of inocculations. Although I had expected Dr. Thompkins to step up and continue her care of our daughter, she had gracefully bowed out, directing us to one of her most trusted colleagues in Gotham. Given the family's stature, Dr. Marcy was more then happy to add us to her patient list, but more importantly Mattie adored her.

Even after fits of post-vaccine bawling.

At a little over four months old, Mattie was right on track with neonatal development, if not a little ahead. She was able to differentiate voices, rocking her little chubby body anytime she heard mine or Bruce's. Her teething stage was in full force, making her uncomfortable and needy. Thankfully, she was easily appeased by sucking on cold wash cloths or frozen toys. She was just starting on solid foods, which was a huge relief on my part as I was able to decrease the amount she breastfed. She was more active as well, rolling over from her back to her stomach, shaking her hands and kicking out in excitement, with a smile on her face.

Our bundle of joy.

Still exhausted, I forced myself out of bed to start the day. After a quick shower, I donned black leggings and a loose fitting sweater. Although I had diligently been making the effort to get myself back in shape, I had a long way to go. Between caring for Mattie around the clock and working out, I had direct my energy to the former. My entire life, I had always been this side of superficial and looking in the mirror after having Mattie was just as difficult as it had been while I was pregnant with her…

Putting my hair up in a damp bun, I made my way out of the master bedroom and next door. She was still adjusting to sleeping in the nursery as well as to not being fed during the night. It was difficult not to give in to her tears and cries, but Dr. Marcy had recommended it to help maintain her weight and institute a lifelong cycle sleep and wakefulness. Every night at eight, we bathed her, read to her and then I nursed her before putting her to bed. She was generally good about sleeping from nine until one but often woke in the wee hours. Bruce was always the first one up, racing to change her before soothing her back to sleep.

Apparently, he had decided to stay with her for the remainder of the morning…

The nursery door was open as I approached it, and I opted to lean against the frame as opposed to walking in. Bruce, still in his pajamas, was sitting cross legged with Mattie upright in his lap. He was helping her hold a plush globe, smiling as she clutched the Pacific Ocean.

Without looking up, he greeted me, "Good morning."

"Morning… you been up long?"

Bruce shook his head, "She went back to sleep after I changed her at one... woke up again… but I stayed in here, just in case."

Before his mind had been erased, he had been able to lie without detection. He had no doubt stayed with Mattie to watch over her, but the real reason had no doubt been that he had another nightmare.

Joining my family, I sat across from Bruce, reaching over and tickling Mattie's arm as I said her name softly. She looked towards me and then grinned, her pinks lips glossy with saliva. "Her appointment is at eleven… want to do lunch afterwards?"

"Okay," he nodded before rotating the globe so that Mattie looked down on Asia.

With his attention diverted, I studied his tired face. As he had once before, Bruce was ignoring what was bothering him by focusing on something else, or rather someone else. Although he was certainly more outgoing emotionally than before, recently he seemed to be reverting back to his old ways, bottling everything inside and trying to fight it on his own.

Alfred said it was a sign, but neither of us were certain as to what it indicated.

J'onn had been diligently working with Bruce over the last few weeks and felt that the memories we had once thought long gone were still present in Bruce's mind, just not accessible to him. Over the last year since he had been shot, several had trickled through the cracks and surfaced, leaving Bruce confused and frustrated. J'onn had tried to explain to him that he should be optimistic, that he should be hopeful.

Unlike before, Bruce had agreed, saying, "Okay… I'll try."

Bruce lifted Mattie up and turned her to face him. As he kissed her face, she grabbed onto a lock of dark gray hair and tugged. She was obsessed with pulling hair, showing no regard for who the hair was attached to. Thankfully, Isis had learned to steer clear of the baby, mostly racing from the room whenever Mattie entered.

"Ow," he smiled at her and gently removed her tiny digits.

I rose to my feet and offered, "Why don't I take her… get her fed and dressed… that way you can shower."

"She ate an ounce about an hour ago," he nodded and handed her over to me, "Probably could go for the fresh stuff."

"Bruce," I said, forcing him to pause at the doorway, "Are you all right?"

He nodded, "Just… tired… didn't sleep well."

"Well, if you want, go back to bed, I'll wake you before we head down to her appointment."

Shaking his head, Bruce replied, "No… I'm fine… I'll nap when she does, later." With a curt nod, he turned to the hall, closed the door and disappeared.

He was far from fine.

I was changing Mattie's diaper when Alfred announced himself with a knock on the door. After welcoming him in, he opened it and smiled warmly, "Good morning, Ms. Selina."

"Good morning, Alfred…" I hefted Mattie into my arms and held her up to look at her favorite grandfather figure, "Say good morning to Alfred, Mattie?"

Although the entire Family was excited to have a baby in their lives, Alfred was overjoyed. Any opportunity he could spend with her, he gladly accepted, which had possibly been the only reason I had maintained my sanity since she had been born. When I had originally thought Bruce to have been dead and that would have to raise our child by myself, I had been terrified. It had been foolish to think that even though Bruce was gone that I had been alone.

He approached the child, pausing within her line of sight and greeted, "Good morning to you, too, Miss Mattie."

"Have you seen Bruce yet?" I asked before sitting Mattie down on the changing table. Her outfit for the day was laying out next to her, black leggings as well as a white Henley body suit and a teeny tiny purple hooded zip-up sweater. Shopping for her had become my new focus as opposed to looking for my own outfits.

"Briefly, earlier this morning. Is something amiss?"

I shrugged as I began putting the onesy, "I don't know… I mean… he just seems off this morning." And many mornings that had preceded it…

"I will offer my counsel to him at once."

"Alfred…"

"Yes, Ms. Selina?"

I hesitated, dropping my gaze to Mattie before continuing, "Do you think it was a mistake? Letting him… try to regain his memories?"

He paused as well, his eyes also falling to his youngest charge's smiling face, "I believe, that no matter how this endeavor ends, it is for the best. He had valid reasons for wanting to remember who he once was… For himself as well as for the rest of the Family…"

I couldn't help but thing of the look in Bruce's eyes when he had told me why he wanted to remember everything. How he wanted to know what his childhood had been like, what he felt the first time he saw me and what it was like raising Dick. It had been so difficult not to blatantly tell him that he had no childhood and the first time he had seen me I had attacked him and that he hadn't been the father he imagined when Dick was young.

But I couldn't do it, not to him.

Alfred's voice spoke softly, "There is no mistake to be made in trying. I believe Master Bruce, old and new, would agree."

^V^

Ms. Selina was justly worried.

Where he had always opted to avoid others with what was bothering, more often than not, he would be willing to vent to me. In the last year, he had done so more than he had in his entire life. Then again, in a sense he had lived his entire life over in the last year.

Well, not his entire life…

Leslie and I had broached the subject with Master Dick shortly after it was decided that Master J'onnz would aide in Master Bruce's recovery. Although a dreaded task, it was decided that when he began to recall memories specific to his life as the Dark Knight, we would sit him down and explain matters to him. Master Dick had seemed quite upset at the thought of it and when I had inquired as to why, he had replied, "It's just that… Everything is so different… I… I know it sounds selfish but I'm not sure if I… "

He had been unable to finish, his self hatred for not wanting his mentor to recover taking hold of him.

Although I had offered comfort, he had denied them, "No, Al… it makes me a horrible person… he spent his entire life becoming who he was… and I don't want him to go back because I like who he is now better…"

I had looked him directly in the eyes before assuring him. "Even if he changes, your role in his life will not. You will, and have, always been his son. Is that understood, Richard?"

He had nodded, but the pained look on his face remained.

The nightmares had grown not only in frequency but in severity. Ms. Selina was justly worried about her beau as I had blatantly heard his cries in the night, followed shortly by his footsteps up and down the hall as he walked with his young child. I had waited until a little after five before rising from my bed in order to check on both father and daughter. Sure enough, both had been in the nursery, Miss Mattie slumbering in her crib and Master Bruce looking longingly at her from the rocking chair.

"Sir?" I had announced myself softly.

He had looked to me instantly, his eyes glowing in the dimly lit room, "Alfred, what are you doing up?"

"It is five, sir."

"Already?" Master Bruce had asked, both of me and himself. After confirming it with his wristwatch, he had sighed, "I didn't realize it was that… early."

"Time escapes us all, Master Bruce."

Nodding, he had glanced once more to his slumbering child, seemingly undeterred by our muted conversation. "She's been asleep since three, hopefully she can make it until seven…"

"Has she been fussy?"

He had shrugged, "No… not really. She just doesn't want to sleep through the night, not yet."

"All in due time, sir… I recall another young infant that lived in this house that woke at all hours of the night."

"Me?"

I had nodded, "Thankfully your father was a night owl, much like yourself. He would walk with you through the halls until you finally fell back asleep."

"Like I do with Mattie," he had commented. There was a moment of silence before he asked, "Do you think he would be… if they would be proud of me?"

"With everything you have done in your life, sir, I have always asked myself the same question… and every time, the answer was yes. They would be proud of you, sir… because I am. You have achieved what they would have wanted for you."

"What's that?"

Smiling, I had replied, "What every parent longs for their children."

He had smirked, his eyes never leaving Mattie's face, "Happiness."

"And are you happy, Master Bruce?"

"… yes." He had hesitated before asking, "Was I happy… before?"

Not wanting to lie more than I had to, I had answered, "You were on the verge of being happy, sir… what has changed in your life since then has been for the better."

I had left him with his thoughts and his firstborn daughter. Returning to my quarters, I had washed and dressed for the day before preparing an itinerary on a piece of stationary. With house being empty for the middle of the day, I had plans to tidy up the master bedroom and the nursery, changing linens on the beds and also tending to laundry. Aside from a trip to the market for produce, the remainder of the day was fairly light aside from the general tasks around the Manor.

With clear skies and mild temperatures for the afternoon, it was tempting to spend it in the gardens, pruning evergreen shrubs, laying in fresh bulb fertilizer and planting dahlias, gladiolas and lilies. The begonias would have to wait until the safe, warm nights of May but it would be nice to get a head start on the others. There were landscapers that tended to the lawns and trees, but I had always enjoyed maintaining the gardens.

List completed, I had made my way to the ground floor with a basket of clothes to be laundered along with a set of garments that needed to be sent to the cleaners. For many years, it had just been myself and Master Bruce, thus making the task of maintaining Wayne Manor relatively simple. Adding two more residents, as well as frequent guests had upped the ante some, but it had been a welcome challenge. Knowing that it was only the permanent household members that were expected at breakfast, I had decided to take extra care in preparations.

For the lord and lady, Eggs Florentine with miniature potato pancakes and sliced tomatoes.

For the little lady, applesauce and rice cereal.

A standard in the house for some time, the automatic coffee machine had greeted with me with a warm aroma. Collecting eggs, butter, spinach, sourdough bread and potatoes, I hear footsteps entering the kitchen. Closing the refrigerator, I announced, "I'm afraid breakfast isn't quite prepared, Master Bruce."

"I'll be sure to tell him," Master Dick had greeted me, fatigue weighing his tone down.

"Sir.. I was unaware you were home…" I had commented before setting the fresh ingredients on the countertop. As I had gone about collecting vinegar, peppercorn, sea salt and lemons from the fruit basket, I continued, "I will have to prepare a feast for three in place of two."

He had shaken his head, "Actually, I'm going to head out… have to be to work by eight."

The clock on the far wall put it at quarter passed six. The hour commute in addition to washing and donning his uniform would give him little time to partake in the most important meal of the day. Insisting that he at least have a serving of eggs, toast and bacon, Master dick had reluctantly agreed, even after his stomach growled in hunger. Rapidly preparing his meal, I had inquired as to how the evening had faired.

"Okay, I guess… still nothing concrete on Aces High… really the only underground casino and gambling outfit left in the city and we just can't seem to pin them down… the undercover work isn't even getting us anywhere…"

"We must be thankful, then."

"Thankful, for what?" he had asked.

I had turned from the stovetop to face him, "Why… that your greatest concern of the criminals lurking about Gotham focus on losing money amongst each other as opposed to forcing ill intent upon innocents."

He had smiled sadly, "Yeah, I guess that is something to be thankful for."

Over his full plate and coffee mug, Master Dick had interspersed details of his vigilante efforts while sating his hunger. Although he had intended on moving on before making his presence known, Master Bruce had appeared with Miss Mattie in his arms, searching for a bottle. A pleasant surprise for both, Master Bruce had been delighted to see his ward while Master Dick had been more than happy to give good morning kisses to his little sister.

Although the toll of his nightly efforts was certainly settling in, Master Dick was still outwardly maintaining his cheery disposition, at least in the presence of his mentor. In fact, I doubted he had ever let slip his worries in front of anyone save for myself and perhaps Ms. Barbara. Much like Master Bruce, he had learned to bare his burdens in solitude.

Surprisingly enough, he had not taken only the bad traits of his mentor. In fact, I was quite pleased that he had grown to realize something I had known for some time, just like Master Bruce. In Master Bruce's case, I knew it to be true when he had decided to expose his identity to the only cat thief that had gotten her hands on his heart.

For Master Dick, I had known much longer… In fact, it had been since his ten-year-old figure had informed me that he and the Batman had encountered the mysterious Batgirl once more.

He had finally realized that he loved another, and was loved in return.

^V^

"A what?" I asked.

"A night out."

Looking at Dick while he hung upside down on the chin-up bars of the Clocktower training room, I inquired further, "Why?"

Reluctantly, he freed his legs, tucking once before landing square on his bare feet. He shrugged while crossing the mats towards me, "I don't know… just… I'm tired of the routine. I go to work, I go see Bruce, I patrol Gotham, I tour the Haven, I go to sleep, I go to work… things have been quiet… Alfred even made fun of me for making a big deal about not being able to get to the bottom of Aces High when usually Batman deals with far greater threats…"

"Good old Al, always there to put things in perspective."

"Exactly," Dick nodded as he grabbed a towel off of a steel rack near the free weights, "I tried to haul out of there this morning before Bruce or Selina came down… and then Bruce walked into the kitchen with Mattie… I had never felt so guilty in my entire life…"

"Dick, it's-."

"No, it's not okay, Babs… I just… I just don't know anymore. I thought that by now everything would be back to normal… that with J'onn and the memory flashes… he'd be back," his eyes fell to his feet, "But he's not… and I don't think he ever will be."

"Dick," I approached him, "We all feel that way… that this is our best chance, his best chance… and it's not working, not yet. But the dreams are more detailed, more accurate… who knows, maybe another few weeks…"

"Another few weeks, few months, few years…" he sighed, his bright blue eyes looking to my face, "I don't know how long I can do it."

After a beat, I answered him, "You'll do it as long as you need to, because that's what he would do for you. For any one of us." When he didn't respond, I added, "And besides, if he ever gets wind of this self-doubt, self-loathing, self-pitying crap, he'll kick your ass."

Finally, a smirk came over his lips.

He was right.

He needed a night out.

"Tell you what, you shower, I'll make reservations, get tickets to Spamalot and we'll make a night of it."

"Isn't it a little late to score seats?"

I rolled my eyes as I turned to leave, "Please, Grayson… Bruce has last minute tickets available at every major venue in the city every night. Fourth row, middle for most of them." When I looked back to him, he was shaking his head with a smile on his face. I offered, "Or would you rather see Phantom?"

The smile faded before he countered, "Please, no masks, no capes."

"As you wish."

He had arrived at the clock tower a little after three in the afternoon. I hadn't expected him until seven or later given that he had to work but he was quick to explain that he had called in sick. When I had asked if he actually was, he had simply dismissed me by saying he was heading to the training bay. A little Bruce-ish for my taste, but I had let it slide for remainder of the afternoon.

To distract myself, I had picked up the apartment, folded towels and had a light nap before making my way to the computers. Bringing up the training room cameras, I had watched on for the better part of an hour as he punished himself with fast-paced katas, straining weight lifts and relentless assaults on the sand bags. When he had cooled down and hooked his feet on the chin-up bar, I had decided to intervene. The quiet nights in Gotham were counterbalanced with the typically chaotic days and nights protecting Bludhaven.

As he had admitted, his life had taken on a painful monotony, one that had no end in sight.

Since the beginning of Bruce's recovery, Dick had been his optimistic self, offering positive energy throughout the entire rehabilitation. As a result, Bruce had soared through regaining basic life skills, learning a lifetime of knowledge once more, as well as to move forward with a normal, family life. Less than a year ago, our lives had turned upside down, and rather than celebrate how far we all had come, Dick was too burnt out to care.

Not that he didn't care… Dick always cared about everyone and everything, both a strength and a weakness.

After freshening up and changing into a dark, low-cut top and flowing calf length skirt. Entering the bathroom, I smiled to hear Dick singing along with the Bose stereo on the counter. As Back in black came on, I chuckled to myself as he overzealously imitated the screech of Brian Johnson. Brightening my face with makeup, I called out to him, "Hey, do you take requests?"

"Sure!" he said back, barely loud enough over the music and the running water.

"Good. Stop singing."

He pulled back the glass door, his head and torso dripping with suds. Shaking his head, "Cold… Just cold, Babs."

Before leaving, I flushed the toilet and asked, "How cold is that?" His cries at the sudden jolt in temperature brought a true smile to my face.

Opting out of a show, we had decided on dinner and followed by a quiet night at home.  
Given that Obdulio's was on West Main, traffic on the way had been a bit of a nightmare, making us fifteen minutes late for our reservation at seven. Thankfully, the hostess new who Dick Grayson was and had saved it for him and his date. She was barely in her twenties and sported a skin-tight black dress and an all too-happy smile. There was a little too much wiggle in her walk, a waste seeing how Dick's eyes were on patron's entrees.

We started with Azul Margaritas, fresh guacamole and warm tortilla chips with ensalada del barrio. I was already full from the amuse bouche and decided to pick at Dick's heaping plate of grilled chicken, rice and asparagus in jalapeño-lemon sauce. To cool our palates, I chose the Trio del Sorbet while Dick had opted for to the chilled Torta de Banana with cinnamon ice cream.

"Babs?"

"Hmm?" I replied as I licked my spoon.

Looking up at him, his plate was empty, as were his eyes.

"I'm quitting."

My brow rose as I fought back urgency in my voice, "Quitting what?"

"Being a cop." When I remained in silent shock, he continued, "I was thinking of moving to Gotham, try and make life a little less… lively."

After leaving behind the guise of Robin along with the city of Gotham, dick had strived for independence and individuality. After striving for so many years, he had been more than successful in creating the identity of Nightwing, leading fellow heroes into victory and taking a city under his watch. His becoming a police officer had been the next step, pursuing a career that allow him to watch over Bludhaven day and night, working from the inside. Although Bruce hadn't approved at first, I and the rest of the Family had sided with him, doing what we could to encourage him along.

Bruce was actually just starting to come around when-.

"Dick, you left Gotham because you needed to be on your own… Yes, you had to come back to some extent for Bruce… but are you ready to leave it all behind?"

He shook his head, "No… but I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice, Dick."

He smirked, recalling a line of reasoning Bruce had used on both of us many, many times.

"What if I said I was moving to Gotham not just for Bruce."

My eyes widened, "If you say that it's for me, I will stab you in the eye with a tortilla chip." To further validate my threat, I picked up the last chip on the platter and held it like a throwing star.

"You wouldn't…" he stated but his voice lacked the conviction.

Softening my gaze, I said, "You can't do this for me, for Bruce… for anyone else but you. And unfortunately, you never quit at anything Dick."

Another smirk tugged at his lips before they went solemn, "People change, Babs."

I shook my head, "Not you… now, we can finish this discussion when out of the earshot of Gotham's biggest gossipers. Meanwhile, tell me how beautiful I am."

^V^


	17. Time Will Tell: XVI

Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: This chapter has been modified from its original version to make it more awesome-er.

A/N 2: A character has two POV's in this chapter. A before… and after.

^V^

On May twenty-third, Mattie had officially slept through the night for two weeks straight.

It was also the same day that life as I knew it came to an end.

Laying my five month old daughter down for her afternoon nap, my eye caught on a stuffed Peter the Rabbit that sat on the shelf cater-corner to her crib. Dick and Barbara had consistently been buying her all things along the line of the infamous children's book character, to the extent that the entire four foot shelf was devoted to him and his furry friends. I reached up to adjust the plush toy, pushing him closer to an upright version of himself when it then hit me.

I was no longer in my daughter's room, but in the yard behind the manor, running so fast that my eyes were tearing. My parents sat on a small hill where we had been picnicking that afternoon, beneath a flawless and cloudless blue sky. After lunch, my father had said something about playing football after he talked with my mother.

I could see their clothes. Their sandwiches. Their smiles.

As I raced after a small rabbit, I called out, "Faster than a rabbit, Mom! Just watch!"

In the distance I heard them talking. Although I couldn't make out their words, I could surely hear the pride in my father's words. And then as the rabbit and I approached the safety of his den, I heard him call out, "Bruce, what are you going to do with it when you catch-. Don't go in that hole…"

I muttered between breaths that the rabbit wasn't going to get away from me, just before I let loose a hysterical cry. The ground had given way and I had fallen into darkness. For a moment, I thought I was going to Hell for chasing the rabbit…

And then I wasn't in the dark, cold cave, but kneeling on the dark, cold pavement. My parents weren't up above, calling my name, they were lying next to me, too silent and too still.

I jumped when a voice said my name. snapping out of it, I looked behind me to see Selina approaching, worry weighing down her soft features. "You're pale, Bruce.. and shivering. What's wrong? Bruce?" she asked as she placed her hands on my shoulders.

Without a word, I brushed her hands off of me and took off to the corridor, bearing left to the master bedroom. Although she had been quick to follow me, I managed to seek safety in the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Selina instantly began knocking on the door while calling out my name. I covered my ears to block her out, but was met with an echoing of my name being called out in my head.

My father's smooth baritone, mother's sweet voice… Dick. Alfred. Everyone…

Cradling my face in my hands, I fell to my knees, silently pleading, "No…"

No… I wanted the memories to come back, I wanted this burden…

My mind suddenly shot back to the rabbit hole. I landed on cool granite and yelped when a rock snagged my knee. But as soon as I had interrupted the cave's silent darkness, shrieks of the night rang out. Countless bats darted about me, zipping past my ears and fluttering in the ruffles of my hair.

I remembered waving at them, ordering that they go away, but it took an eternity for them comply and retreat to the recesses of the cave. I took the brief silence to look at my surroundings in the near darkness, listening to my parents as they frantically called to me.

Shrieks echoing in the dark. Rocks clattering on the cave floor.

The pearls of my mother's necklace dancing on the pavement.

My body had been frozen with fear, and had gone more rigid when I heard its voice. A louder and darker shriek rang out as the certain fluttering of massive wings approached me. The giant bat's eyes glowed red, it's breath smelled of death.

My father's aftershave, smelling of pine and must.

Selina's perfume, rich and seductive.

Dicks' face, hidden beneath a green mask and a bright smile… then bloodied and bruised.

Green mask.

Black mask.

Black cowl.

The bat's face.

My father's face paling as his body lay motionless on the dirty pavement.

My parents' blood pooling in the streetlight.

The light in the sky.

The bat's face.

Barbara crying in a hospital bed.

Tim's eyes bleeding beneath his mask.

Jim lying in a hospital bed.

Jim hovering over me, holding my hand.

Blood everywhere.

The bat's face.

Pearls.

Blood.

Darkness.

My mother's neck, a bloody cavern.

The rabbit hole, the cave.

The bat claiming me as his own.

The voices echoing through Wayne Manor.

So many voices. Dick yelling. Alfred sighing. Selina laughing..

A white pale face with beady eyes and a wicked grin.

Black mask.

Green mask.

Yellow cape.

Good soldier.

The bat's face.

No.

Oh, no

^V^

My fists pounded on the hardwood door as I called out his name, my voice growing louder and more frantic. Pausing, I pressed my ear to the door and waited intently for some sign that he wasn't in any immediate danger. Holding my breath, all I could hear was Bruce muttering to himself softly.

So much for our picnic.

We had just fed Mattie downstairs and he had offered to take her up and get her settled in for a nap so we could have a late afternoon meal out on the back lawn. While he was upstairs, Alfred and I had carefully packed an actual basket with a fresh baguette, prosciutto ham, brie, Dijon, arugala and sliced plum tomatoes. Along with sliced cantaloupe and honeydew and a bottle of Moscato d'Asti, my favorite white sparkling wine. After a nasty bout of mastitis, I had been forced to wean Mattie onto solid food and formula earlier than expected. Fully recovered, I was rewarded with bubbly.

Bruce had asked what the special occasion was but I had simply told him it was a beautiful day out and we should celebrate it. In fact, it was the anniversary of the day I had nearly lost him and I wanted to revel in the fact that he was indeed alive and well.

Leaning my brow on the cool wood, I whispered, "Bruce?"

The only explanation was that he had been stricken with another flashback. I could only imagine how unnerving it was to be one place and then suddenly trapped in a memory you can't recognize as yours. I heard his soft sobs from within and a moment later, I felt tears falling down my own cheeks.

"Ms. Selina?"

Wiping my face, I turned to see Alfred entering the master bedroom.

Without haste, he crossed the room in long, rushed strides, 'When you did not return to the kitchen I became worried, is everything all right?"

I shook my head, "I… I don't know what happened. I went to the nursery to check on him and he just snapped, ran out and locked himself in the bathroom."

"It has been some time since he has had an… episode."

I glanced back to the door, "He won't even answer me."

The baby monitor on my night table came to life, Mattie's loud breathing quickly turning into cries. Alfred nodded to the double doors, "Go to her, madam… I will tend to Master Bruce."

Returning to the nursery, I found Mattie on her side, bawling as she jerked her tiny fists about. After lifting her, I pressed her to me, cradling the back of her head and offering soothing words in her ear. Walking up and down the hall for twenty minutes finally brought her comfort and she relaxed in my arms.

I would have given anything for such a gesture to ease my troubles…

Swaddling her and setting her back down in the crib, I rejoined Alfred in the bedroom, not surprised to find him stills standing alone before the bathroom door. As I approached, he announced, "Inadvertently, Master Dick was already on his way to the Manor… he will be arriving shortly."

"Good. Worst case scenario, he can kick the door down."

Alfred turned to face me, "I do believe that would be unwise… Master Bruce is obviously seeking safety, albeit in solitude. Invading that safe place, at such an emotional time… could be detrimental to his already fragile psyche."

Reluctantly, I nodded in agreement, even though all I wanted was to see Bruce's face.

It was a long fifteen minutes of alternating between calling out Bruce's name and listening for a response. Just as I about to try once more, I heard footsteps running down the hall before Dick appeared in the open doorway. He asked, out of breath, "How is he?"

Alfred stepped away as Dick approached and put his ear to the door, "He is conscious, breathing… but not responding to either myself or Ms. Selina."

Dick knocked loudly on the door, "Bruce? Bruce, it's Dick…. Open up, all right… You're making Selina cry… come on, Bruce…"

Nothing.

"What happened?" he asked. After I replayed everything to him, he shook his head, "He hasn't had a flashback in what, two weeks?"

Alfred confirmed, "Indeed… and even that spell had been relatively mild."

"Something must have set him off…" Dick sighed, "Think his subconscious knows it's been a year?" After another pause, he continued, "Hate to break the door in on him… probably could go out on the terrace, jump to the window ledge…"

"Absolutely not, Master Dick."

"What, three stories is nothing Al… I was playing window washer last night on the top floor of the-."

Dick was unable to finish. The bathroom door swung inwards before Bruce raced by, knocking Dick to the ground with a wave of his arm. While Alfred helped Dick to his feet, I ran after Bruce, calling his name but he showed no sign of hearing me. By the time I made it to the stairs, he was already nearing the ground floor, running as if a demon was chasing him and not me.

As I neared the bottom of the massive staircase, Dick had joined me, asking, "Which way did he go?"

"I… I don't know… Bruce!"

Before I could ask where Alfred was, Dick said, "Al came down in the elevator…" he took off towards the east wing and I followed him, bypassing the library, study, informal dining room and kitchen. Opening the oversized mahogany door, we weren't greeted by the gilded doors of the elevator car. Dick looked to the control panel and whispered, "He's in the Cave."

^V^

I wasn't one to believe in coincidence. Bruce had seen to that I lived only by cold, hard fact, scientific theory and proving even the most menial of things beyond a reasonable doubt. I wish I could have said that my dad had also brought me up on the same ideals, but really, they had been self taught before meeting Bruce.

With one month left of my junior year in high school, I had been hitting the books harder than the training mats of late, as well as the streets. Dick had understood, knowing my life as a teenaged high schooler came before that of a masked vigilante. Given that I had a free period at the end of the day, I had opted to head out early with a "handwritten" not from my father. I had gotten far too used to lying to his face and signing his name to things over the last two years.

After busting through homework, I changed into leggings and a loose tank top in preparation of physically schooling myself. Cass had intended on coming up later in the afternoon with Barbara and I wanted to prepare myself best I could. Although a year younger than I, she was light years ahead of me when it came to combat training. On the flipside, I had the technical and detective skills she needed to excel as Batgirl. Although Bruce had been responsible for most of her re-training, he had delegated a fair amount of it to me in her short time in the Family.

Dick joked that every Robin needed a Batgirl, just as every Batman needed a Robin.

In some bizarre and almost morbid celebration, we were having a Family dinner on the back terrace. Even Jim Gordon was coming up as long as he could escape police headquarters in time. Thankfully, my father already had plans for the evening as he and my step-mother were headed to Connecticut for a long weekend away. Four days home alone made my life so much easier…

I warmed up with shadow boxing and strength training, focusing on getting my blood moving and stretching my arms, torso and legs. From there, I moved on to some tumbling to help limber me up and sharpen my reflexes. Cooling down, I used yoga to focus my breathing and my center of balance. In less than two hours I had accomplished more physical activity than any of my peers had in a year's worth of physical education.

Deserving a break, I was just retrieving a bottle of water from the small fridge in the training bay when I heard frantic footfalls coming down the stairs. They weren't Dick's, too rushed, too loud. They weren't Cass's either because she never made a sound, even when she was running. Selina's heels would have clicked and clacked, not thumped and thudded.

Feeling an urge for defense, I pressed myself to the cavern wall and peered around the corner. My mouth gaped at the sight of Bruce jumping the last few steps before awkwardly appraising the dimly lit main floor of the Cave. Before I could even begin to think of what the best course of action would be, I watched as he took quick strides towards the costume vault, pausing to unlock it before stepping in.

Um, okay…

As I came out of hiding, the elevator door opened to reveal Alfred before he briskly stepped onto the main tier, shortly joined by Dick and Selina after they quickly descended the steps. They began turning on all of the overhead lights, calling out Bruce's name as they began their search. I finally stepped forward and offered, "He went into the costume vault."

They jumped at my voice before turning to the impenetrable in-wall safe haven of vigilante costumes and equipment, old and new. I followed in stride with Alfred, asking, "What's going on? What happened? Did he find the Cave?"

"No… he knew of the Cave, of the Clock… I believe Master Bruce is having a bit of… a breakthrough, as it were."

I knew J'onn had been able to bring forth a number of his memories, both through psychic extraction and instigating flashbacks and dreams, but if he remembered the Clock and the Cave, he could remember…

We joined Selina and Dick as they stood silently before the open hatch door. I peered between them to see Bruce standing towards the back where the older models and back up suits were held. For some unknown reason, Dick had kept the cowl Bruce had been shot in a year earlier, setting it on the top holder of a rack hold four others.

His lips were moving silently, his eyes never leaving the endless holes of the cowl. He slowly reached up, touching the jagged hole of the left brow before reaching up and touching the matching mark on his own face.

"Bruce?" Dick asked softly.

He showed no sign of hearing him, let alone any acknowledgement that we were standing there staring at him. Dick took two steps forward, wary given how little he knew of what was going through Bruce's mind. I took his spot next to Selina, my heart pounding against my ribcage. I had hoped and prayed that a day would come when the barriers would come crashing down and Bruce would remember who he once was. Seeing the torment and fear in his face, I suddenly regretted wishing it upon him,

As Dick moved and inch closer, Bruce's voice finally came loud enough for us to hear,

"… Took them. You took them all. Couldn't let you take another."

He wasn't talking to himself, he was talking to Batman…

"Had to stop him, had to save him…"

He was… apologizing.

"One life… worth more than yours… his life, more than mine…"

"Saved him. Good soldier."

Without warning, Bruce fell to his hands and knees, his breaths coming in short pants. Dick moved in as did Selina, tentatively kneeling beside him and offering what they could. Alfred and I also joined them inside the vault, standing back a few feet and watching everything unfold.

Selina gently put her hand on Bruce's face, guiding it to look at her. When he lifted his eyes from the grated flooring, she retracted instinctively. In that fraction of a minute, he had changed physically just as he had psychologically. His normally arched brow was replaced with a stern setting of a familiar expressionless state. His icy eyes were no longer lit with calmness and ease, but darkened with intense emotions that were never allowed to surface. His half-smile had been removed and in its place was a grim frown that I hadn't seen in over a year.

As he rose to his feet, Dick offered a hand but Bruce had looked back to him, shaking his head. While he looked each of us over, contemplation taking over his face, Selina asked, "Bruce? Are you… okay?"

I wasn't certain he was back until he said curtly, "I'm fine."

^V^

We had returned to the ground floor of the Manor in silence before grouping in the study to sit in a frustrating silence of uncertainty. Alfred had offered tea and coffee but no one said a word. I had chosen to sit with Selina on the smaller of the three couches, leaving Tim and Dick to sit opposite of us. She hadn't touched me since the costume vault, not that I could blame her.

After twenty minutes, Dick cleared his throat and asked, "So… what's the horsepower on the Mobile."

I looked to him stoically before replying, "Fifteen hundred after I modified the turbine engines last spring."

"Quickest way out of the south of Little Stockton."

"Before midnight, over the bridge, not through the tunnel. After midnight, on foot, hitching a ride on the L train."

Dick nodded before inquiring further, "What are the ten devices on the universal tool?"

I leaned forward, counting off on my fingers, "EPROM reader/writer, USB jack, electronic probes, tap, jumper, multi-line analyzer, CPU breakout box, RS-232 breakout box, oscilloscope and vector scope.. And you must not be counting the tool point storage unit in the handle."

And so began a battery of questions that tested how much I had regained in the last hour hours. Coming out of order and without warning, Dick questioned different aspects of my training abroad, the rogues of Batman, the holdings of Wayne Enterprises, details about allies and colleagues and the differences between a typical and riot ready utility belt.

After twenty questions, I asked, "Happy?"

"More like... Terrified," he admitted, shaking his head.

Just as they had been searching my face and studying them, I had been reciprocating the gesture. I had certainly been overwhelmed by the sudden and painful flood of memories but it seemed to be just as difficult for them to bear. Alfred was silent and contemplative, worry etched into his old face. Any time I caught Tim's gaze he looked away, biting his lip or playing with the piping on the couch. Dick had put on a brave front, hiding behind his inquiries as opposed to letting the truth show up on his face.

And Selina.

I had looked over at her a number of times since we had come upstairs, only to find her gaze was locked onto me. When our eyes met, she held her ground, forcing me to look away instead of her.

Dick spoke up again, "You do realize what day it is?"

Nodding, I responded, "Yes, although I didn't know the significance an hour ago."

He shook his head as he reclined into the couch, "Damn… I just…" he rose to his feet before continuing, "Bruce, do you have any idea how-."

"How difficult it's been? How hard it is for you to look at me now as opposed to the morning?" I glanced to Selina, her eyes finally dropping away, "No… I can't possibly fathom it."

Dick took a breath before proceeding, "Do… do you remember that night? All that's happened since then?"

I closed my eyes, allowing Pasqualle's enraged and bloodied face to come into my mind.

"Yes… I do."

"What… what triggered it?"

I closed my eyes again, allowing me to be six years old again, just for a moment.

Lying, I answered him, "It's difficult to say… everything came so quickly, it's hard to say where it began exactly."

Shaking his head again, Dick looked to Alfred and smiled, "Well… good thing we were having a Family dinner tonight anyway."

"Indeed, sir… that is if Master Bruce is up to it." It had been the first Alfred had said since we had left the Cave. Naturally his words had been focused on my well-being.

He was right. My life had been jumpstarted, there should have been a cause for concern. Naturally, Leslie would be called out to perform a neurological examination, possibly even a compete body scan down in the Cave. Once cleared, she and Alfred would both be put at ease on some level, although it would be some time before things got back to normal.

Naturally, Cassandra and Barbara needed to be notified upon their arrival, but I was starting to wonder who else. The only member of the League aware of my year's battle with amnesia had been Clark and once I told him, he would no doubt want to cordially interrogate me. The Family would do for now, the Krytponian could wait.

The first person on my list to notify would be Jim. Perhaps after dinner, I would have time to suit up and-.

No, it was too soon.

I had maintained good form over the last year, certainly good enough to swing a few rooftops to say hello to an old friend. My mental fitness, on the other hand, was a completely different case. A stress-free life had left me feeling soft and relaxed, unlike before where I had been constantly aware of my surroundings. It would take training, months even, to get back to where my body and mind had once been.

But how would I be able to train for a life as a vigilante while being a father… and a husband?

The dream I had dreaded, a life with loved ones, had become a reality. Selina, beautiful as ever, had been at my side day and night through most of my recovery. She had accepted my proposal, one I had never truly intended on carrying out, under the assumption that the man she was with was asking her, not the man she had once been with…

And Mattie…

"Ahem, Master Dick… Master Tim, if you would assist me in the ktichen…"

"Right," Dick nodded before looking to me again, "We were going to have Gordon up tonight… If you want, I'll call him, tell him we've cancelled. Keep things in house for now."

"All right,"I responded.

Dick's lower lip trmebled before he stammered, "Bruce, I… I told him the… I told him…"

I rose to my feet, setting a hand on his shoulder, "We have a lot to talk about, Dick… but not now."

He forced a smirk to his lips before following Alfred out of the room.

I glanced to Tim as he made his way to his feet. He had obviously been torturing himself in the training bay, growing from a slight teenager to a well-muscled young man. After clearing my that, "Trap exercises worked."

Tim laughed sadly before replying, "Yeah… get all the babes in school now." He turned to leave as well but stopped and faced me, throwing his arms around my torso.

I patted his back gently, "It's all right, Tim. It's all over."

"Thank you," he said before releasing me and racing out of the room.

Looking back to Selina, I smirked as she patted the seat cushion next to her. After rejoining her on the couch, I felt her fingers reach over ad grasp mine. Given how dedicated she was to being a strong, independent woman, it was difficult to see her wrought with emotional turmoil, even if she was managing to keep it all inside.

I opened my mouth to speak when she moved suddenly, her arms encircling my neck. I took a deep inhale of her hair before I surrounded her shoulders with my arms.

"I've missed you," she exhaled into my ear.

"I've missed you, too," I found myself replying.

After a long minute of listening to her breathing, Selina finally pulled back, pressing her left hand against my chest. Long, nimble fingers that ended with perfect white polished nails stood out against my dark polo. When my eyes locked onto one of her fingers, I smiled, "That's a nice ring."

She used her other hand to wipe at an eye as she agreed, "Yes, it is."

"Wherever did you get a nice ring like that?"

"This guy."

"Do I know him?"

She nodded, "Yeah. He gave it to me for Christmas."

"Did he?" I asked, "Was it only a Christmas present?"

"No. I think he wants me to marry him."

I nodded, "Lucky guy."

"You bet he is," Selina moved in close to me again, kissing me softly on the lips. Just as I was about to kiss her back, she pulled away, "I'm going to get Mattie, you want to join me?"

"I think… I'll just sit here for a while."

Once she had left, I ran a hand through my short hair before getting to my feet. Crossing the room and into the hall, I opened the door to the nearest bathroom, flicking the lights on above the mirrors. In one year, I had aged a decade, my raven hair was gray at the temples and a narrow band of bangs had turned white. The wrinkles at the corners of my eyes reminded me of my father's laughter lines, the way they would bunch when he laughed while watching me play with my Grey Ghost doll.

My eyes then traveled to my left brow.

So many scars.

So many stories…

Was it possible that yet another identity had been formed within me? There was Batman and Bruce Wayne and then this kind, gentle man who had witnessed life through the eyes of an innocent child. Who had the bravery to propose to his one true love and then the joy of witnessing the birth of his own daughter. I had been there, way back in the deepest part of unconsciousness, but it hadn't been me calling the shots.

Returning to the den, I neglected the couches and instead stood beneath the oil portriat of my parents. Alfred had told me recently that I had finally achieved what every parent desired of their children: happiness. In all my years as Batman, I had never allowed myself the opportunity let alone pursue it specifically.

Could I be happy? Could I live with being loved? Could I live with the fact that the price of happiness was loss and pain?

Could I leave it all behind?

The smiling faces of my parents should have made me say yes…

He has and would always be with me, ever since I had fallen into the Cave. There was no escape, there was no way back.

I heard soft giggles come form down the hall and then Selina's voice, "Yes, we're going to go see Daddy."

Guardian of Gotham, the caped crusader, the dark knight.

Father, son, husband.

As she entered the study, I turned and watched as Selina approached me. Mattie was smiling in her arms, her dark curls mused from her brief nap. I stepped forward and took my daughter into my arms as if it were the first time, her blue eyes were never-ending as she blinked slowly.

Could I?

Perhaps only time will tell.

^V^


End file.
